Lhessil Garreth - Dovahkiin
by gelahope
Summary: Wood Elf Lhessil Garreth is an unlikely candidate to act as Skyrim's only known Dragonborn, but it is a role that she must play nonetheless. Having already secured her role as the leader of the Thieves Guild, she is now facing her demons and leading the life of the Dragonborn with her faithful companion Ralof at her side.
1. The Sleeping Giant

I sit on a barstool in the dim light of the Sleeping Giant Inn, nursing my ale and lost in thought. So much has happened in such a short time that even thinking about sorting it all out makes my mind start pounding violently against my skull. I sigh as I massage my temples and try my best to cast it all out of my thoughts for now.

"Troubles, friend?" a voice from behind the counter says to me, and I look up to see Delphine, the owner of the tavern. I don't know her terribly well, just a friendly face I see occasionally when booking a room at the inn or when strolling around Riverwood.

"Just a lot on my mind," I reply casually. There is no way a simple tavern owner could understand the gravity of my situation. She nods understandingly and walks toward the main dining area of the tavern, presumably to help other patrons.

"Lhessil?" comes a strong Nordic accent from behind me, and I turn to see another familiar face standing behind me in his regular Stormcloak attire.

"Hello, Ralof. Thank you for meeting me. I was afraid you hadn't gotten my letter," I greet him with a warm smile and he slides onto the barstool closest to mine.

"I only got it this morning," he says with a sigh as he settles in. "Damned couriers take their sweet time nowadays, don't they?"

I chuckle half-heartedly. "Would you like a drink?"

"No thanks," he says curtly. I can tell from his tone that the jokes are over and he wants to get right down to business. "Where have you been, Lhessil? The last time I saw your face you were heading toward Whiterun about to tell the Jarl about the attack on Helgen." He pauses, as if waiting for my response, but it never comes. "That was months ago," he says, obviously exasperated with my lack of communication. "Since then I have heard many things about you, and I can't say I know for sure which ones are merely rumors and which are truth."

I take a long swig of my ale and sigh. Finally I respond, "I know, I know. A lot has happened, Ralof. I can't say I'm proud of it all, but you saved my life in Helgen, and I know I owe you the truth."

"So tell me," he says impatiently. "Is it true?" I look at him inquisitively, not knowing which truth he is searching for. He lowers his voice and leans closer to me as he asks in a whisper, "Are you Dragonborn?"

I sigh and lean back, stretching my arms on the counter and trying to find the words with which to respond. "I think so. I don't know." I shake my head and look down to my legs as the thoughts that I swept from my mind earlier come flooding back in and confuse me everywhere they go. "The day I left Riverwood I went to see Jarl Balgruuf like I said I would." I look back toward him, and he is listening intently. "I told him about the dragon attack in Helgen, and before I knew it there was another dragon attacking the west watchtower outside of the city. So, he sent me and a few of his soldiers to investigate.

"When we got there, the dragon's death came with relative ease between all of us. But then it suddenly burst into flame, and this strange whirlwind surrounded me. And I felt…" I trail off, unable to find the words to accurately describe what it felt like. But as I gaze at Ralof, I realize that he will not say a word until I have finished my tale, so I struggle onward. "I felt like I absorbed the dragon. Its thoughts…. Its feelings… Its knowledge…" I take another deep sigh and look away from him again. I can barely comprehend it all even though it happened to me. I don't expect him to understand. I reach for my tankard and take another swig.

Ralof's mouth is hanging open in awe when my focus shifts back to him. He is quiet, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "Say something," I whisper urgently.

This seems to snap him out of his trance-like state, and he takes a deep breath and slaps his hands on his thighs. "You know, I think I will take that drink," he says with a smile. I laugh quietly, gladly accepting the change of mood, and wave Delphine over. She comes with a pitcher already in hand.

"My friend would like a drink," I say, and she sets about getting him a tankard of his own as I set a few gold coins out on the counter. "It's on me," I say with a smile.

"Thank you, friend," he says to me as Delphine finishes pouring his drink. He wastes no time in washing the whole thing down. I gape at him in astonishment as he slams his now empty tankard on the counter, but I quickly come to my senses as I realize this is probably normal behavior for a Nord. Ralof stretches as if settling in for a long conversation, then finally speaks again, "Alright then, what about the Greybeards?"

I raise my eyebrows in question, wondering how he could have known about that.

"Half of Skyrim heard the call," he says in response to my mental question. I flush as that dawns on me, embarrassed that I didn't realize it before.

"Er… Right," I say as I take another deep breath and prepare myself for another long-winded tale. "Well, I heard the call when I was on my way back to Whiterun to report to the Jarl that the dragon had been slain. I didn't know what it was that I was hearing at first."

"You didn't?" Ralof asks me with surprise. "Hadn't you ever heard the legends?"

I scoff, offended at the condescending tone he used. "I'm not originally from Skyrim, you know."

He takes my words into account and then looks me up and down quickly, I assume to take in the realization that I am, in fact, a Wood Elf – not a native to Skyrim.

"Right," is all he can manage to say in response.

"In any case," I continue with my tale, dismissing his tone. "I went back to Dragonsreach and Jarl Balgruuf filled me in on the whole Greybeard situation. He said they were calling for me from the mountain, and that I should answer their call. So, I did. I made the long journey to High Hrothgar. Nearly got killed by a troll along the way too, mind you. Anyway, when I got there they taught me a few things – kept going on about 'the Way of the Voice', and then sent me on another journey." I stop and take the last sip of ale from my tankard. I look back at Ralof, and he seems to be waiting for me to continue. But I shrug at him and say, "That's it."

"What do you mean 'that's it'?" He says, straightening up and raising his voice a little. "Did you go on the journey the Greybeards sent you on?"

I slouch in my chair a little bit, for some reason feeling overwhelmingly ashamed of myself as I shake my head slightly. "No."

Ralof says nothing, but I can tell just by the stern look on his face what he really wants to say. He wants to say that I have dishonored his Nordic traditions, that I disrespected the legendary Greybeards, and that I ought to be ashamed of myself. But instead, he collects himself, shakes his tankard in Delphine's direction to indicate that he would like some more, then says calmly to me, "So what _have_ you been doing these past few months then?"

My eyes widen in surprise at his response, and it takes me a moment to recover my composure before I can continue. "Well, I uh… I went to Riften."

"Riften?" he says as he lifts his newly filled tankard back up to his lips. "What in Oblivion brought you to Riften?"

I bite my bottom lip and look around anxiously trying to find any excuse that I can not to answer his question, but I find nothing and reluctantly answer, "Er… The Thieves Guild."

Ralof's eyes shoot wide open and he nearly chokes on his ale as he drinks it. He slams his tankard back on the counter, but this time it is not at all empty and the frothy ale splashes violently from it. I push my chair back instinctively and narrowly manage to escape the mess. The scene seems to have attracted the attention of the entire tavern, as they all gape at Ralof – myself included.

"Um, maybe we should talk about this somewhere else?" I suggest in a whisper, breaking the deafening silence. Ralof simply nods, still wide-eyed, and tosses a few coins from his bag onto the counter before strolling toward the exit of the inn without saying a word. I turn and smile apologetically to Delphine who smiles understandingly back, then follow Ralof out of the tavern and into the chilly night.

I pull a short leather cloak from my satchel and secure it around my neck to keep the cold at bay since the ale doesn't seem to be fending it off very well on its own. I then follow Ralof around the corner and into an alleyway beside the inn. The darkness is consuming, but I manage to see his silhouette from the light pouring out of the windows of the inn. I cannot see him well enough, though, to be able to gauge his mood. I stand in front of him quietly and wait for him to say something.

He seems to be having some sort of a mental struggle. "You…" he says, then he changes his response to, "But…", then "What…" I bite my lip again while awaiting his response. I don't know why the thought of him being upset with me bothers me so much, after all I only met him once before this. Finally, he says sternly, "So the rumors about you are true? The ones about the Dragonborn becoming the new leader of the Thieves Guild and restoring them to their former glory?"

I nod slowly, my bottom lip still trapped under the pressure of my teeth. It takes me a moment to realize that it's too dark out for him to see my response so I add sheepishly, "Yes."

He turns around and storms away in what appears to be a fit of silent rage. I worry for a moment that he no longer wants to speak with me, but the thought leaves as quickly as it came when he turns back around and skulks back to me. "Why?" he says simply – angrily.

I am lost for words. How can I explain to him the joy that I have always felt in being a thief? How can he ever know the awful things that were going on in the Guild under Mercer Frey's reign? How can I describe the pride that I feel when I correct an injustice by stealing from the bad and giving to the good? All I can manage to say to him is, "I don't know."

He stays silent for a moment, stews and broods for a little while longer, and finally collects himself. "I don't even know why I am still talking to you," he says sharply. After another impossibly long moment he asks, "Are you still with them?"

That is a tough question. "Sort of," I say truthfully. "But I don't really lead them – Brynjolf mostly takes care of that. I have other things on my mind that I want to attend to."

"Like what?" he says, still being as abrupt as possible in his responses.

"Like… this whole Dragonborn mess." Suddenly he stops in his tracks and looks straight at me for the first time since we left the tavern. He seems to be waiting for me to elaborate, and I comply. "I feel like I ran away to Riften and the Thieves Guild in order to escape the chaos of this Dragonborn life that was being thrust upon me. Now that I'm the leader of the Thieves Guild, I feel like I'm not even fit to lead them. After all, I only ran from my own problems like a coward." I hang my head in shame, remembering the people in the Ratways of Riften who look up to me although I feel undeserving of it.

A moment of silence passes by, and I suddenly feel compelled to explain myself further. "That's why I asked you here, Ralof. I want to make it right." I look up and meet his gaze. "I am ready to lead the life of the Dragonborn and take on the task that the Greybeards assigned to me." Ralof still says nothing, but continues to stare unflinchingly at me. "And… and I want you to come with me."

This seems to grasp his attention. Finally he speaks, "Come with you? Why? Why me?"

"Because I can't do it alone," I say, and I can't seem to stop the words from coming as I speak them. "Because you saved my life when you didn't even know who I was, and because of that you are the only one in Skyrim that I trust completely." My mind flashes back to the fateful day in Helgen, remembering the buildings shattering to the ground and the fire everywhere… and Ralof guiding me through the destruction to safety.

Ralof's long sigh brings me back to the present. He grasps his face with his hand and slides his fingers down to his chin slowly. I think he's mulling over my request. Another impossibly long moment passes by, and finally he says, "Let me think it over. I need to talk it over with my sister, Gerdur."

With that he walks past me, probably toward his sister's home here in Riverwood, but I turn swiftly and grasp his wrist firmly to stop him in his tracks. "I leave tomorrow morning, with or without you," I say softly. "But I would really prefer your help."

Ralof looks to his side, but not all the way back at me. He pauses for a moment then nods once. I release his arm and he continues walking, not saying anything else. I watch him walk away for a moment and my heart sinks. This did not go as well as I was hoping, and now I am left with the great possibility of facing the road ahead of me alone. I clutch my cloak tighter around my arms and shuffle gingerly back into the Sleeping Giant to pay for a room for the night.


	2. Whiterun

As I wake the next morning, I immediately feel the weight of the world pulling down on my body and attempting to coerce me to stay in bed – even if it isn't very much of a bed. Any hope I had yesterday of heading out with companionship is now gone. The more I think of my encounter with Ralof last night, the more I realize that he would have to be insane to willingly choose to accompany me. But I know that my choice has been made and that I must journey forth without him.

I begrudgingly get out of bed, check my satchel to make sure nothing has been taken by any of the inn's patrons while I slept, and upon finding that nothing is missing I put it over my shoulder and head out the door of the small room that was assigned to me. I glance around the inn for Delphine to let her know that I am off, but she is nowhere to be found. I sigh and pull an apple from my bag then proceed to eat it distractedly while I decide if I should wait for her or not. I eventually decide against it, knowing that my room has already been paid for and that I require nothing else before I leave. So, I finish my apple and toss it into a wicker bin before strolling outside into the pale pinks and yellows of the upcoming sun.

To my surprise, Ralof is headed up the inn's small set of steps in front of me. He looks up at me from halfway up the staircase and stops dead in his tracks as I close the door behind me. I say nothing. I am too distracted trying desperately not to get my hopes up that he has decided to come with me, because I know that is absurd. Ralof takes a moment before he says anything either, but finally he musters out a quiet remark, "I will go with you."

I feel a large smile stretch out across my face, but his words from the night before still nag at me from the back of my mind, and my smile fades again. "Are you sure you want to help a thief?" I ask with as much politeness as I can manage.

He looks down at his feet for a moment, then strolls back down the stairs and I follow suit. He then stop and looks at me before saying, "I won't pretend that your hobbies don't bother me. But I know that this journey you are taking has a higher purpose than that of a mere thief." I shuffle my feet uncomfortably. I feel like he is addressing me as a villain, but I say nothing in response. Instead, he continues, "And if helping you will help the people of Skyrim by getting rid of these blasted dragons, then I am with you."

He reaches his hand out to me and I look at him thoughtfully before grasping it firmly and shaking it gently. "Sounds like a plan, friend," I reply, and a small smile creeps onto his face. I know my face is mirroring his as well. "Shall we go then?" I ask, releasing his hand and attempting to lighten the mood.

"Right," he says as he walks over and picks up a wooden shield and Stormcloak helmet that were leaning against the wall of the inn. Then, straightening back up and putting on his gear, he turns back to me and asks with a hint of confusion, "Er, where are we going anyway?"

I flush as I realize that I hadn't given him any details about the journey yet. But I brush the embarrassing thought from my mind and say confidently, "Ustengrav."

"Right," he says again, then pauses and looks around for a moment before turning to me again and saying, "and where is that exactly?"

I chuckle softly and begin walking toward the bridge out of town. "It'll take a couple of days to get to. It's near Dawnstar."

"Dawnstar!" he exclaims as he follows me down the road. "That really is quite the long journey the Greybeards sent you on."

"Now you see why I was reluctant to take the job originally," I say with a sigh. "I was already a bit tired from fighting a dragon and such, remember?"

"Right," he says again. This seems to be a favorite saying of his.

"So, I figure we'll probably head to Windhelm today and stop for the night, then head from there to Dawnstar tomorrow and spend the night. That way we can head into Ustengrav rested in the morning," I explain as we walk along the cobble stoned road toward Whiterun. Ralof follows alongside me, listening intently.

"We'd better be fast if we're going to make it to Windhelm before nightfall tonight," he says cautiously. "But other than that, it sounds like a sound plan. And er, what is it that we are doing in Ustengrav anyway?"

"I'm supposed to retrieve a horn of some kind. I guess it was a prized possession of someone important named Windcaller?" I say with question, wondering briefly if I am recalling the name the Greybeards told me correctly.

"_Jurgen _Windcaller?" he exclaims, and I jump slightly in surprise from his outburst.

I sigh and continue walking. "Sounds about right," I reply.

"He's only the founder of the Greybeards!" he explains as if I were a child who should have known better. He sighs, slaps the helmet he's wearing with his palm and shakes his head as we continue to stroll along the path. "I cannot believe that you are the Dragonborn and you don't even know who Jurgen Windcaller is. In fact, I'm surprised that the Dragonborn is anyone other than a Nord all together."

I shrug, taking no offense at his words. After all, I am a little surprised as well. "I guess you will just have to fill me in on all the details," I say with a smirk as I look toward him. "Lucky for me I've got a Nord that knows all the old legends like the back of his hand to help me out."

He smiles at me, a heartfelt smile that makes me think I honestly touched him with my words. Then he inhales slowly and stretches, and I know that he is preparing for a long-winded tale. Oh well, I basically asked for it, so I have no one other than myself to blame. I shake my head subtly at myself with a half-smile, and his tale begins. "Well, Jurgen Windcaller was originally a leader of an army…"

Ralof goes on about the life of Jurgen Windcaller and I don't try very hard to pay attention, but I am surprised at how much information I take in from his tale. Ralof is a surprisingly good storyteller, using large gestures and different voices as he reaches different points in his story – I even sort of enjoy it.

What I gather from his story is that Windcaller was 'the best' at using Dragon Shouts and that he lead an army into a battle of some kind, where apparently they got wiped out – except for him, of course. Then he decided that the Gods were punishing him for using his Shouts for war, so he created the Way of the Voice and became a pacifist, and also convinced his fellow Shout-users to join him which established the Greybeards. It's all really riveting, honestly.

"Fascinating," I say as he finishes explaining how the Greybeards built High Hrothgar, trying to sound as interesting and not-sarcastic as I can. I think I succeed because he smiles with pride. I am surprised when I realize that we are already near Whiterun - he must have been talking longer than I thought. I stop at the fork in the road and look toward the city housed in large stone walls. I look toward Ralof and say, "Need anything from the town before we continue on?"

He looks toward the structure and his face falls. "Oh, uh…" he sounds nervous. "No, I'm fine. Besides, Whiterun isn't exactly er, Stormcloak friendly," he says, gesturing to his very obvious Stormcloak attire.

I furrow my eyebrows at him inquisitively. "Last I heard, Whiterun hadn't joined the Empire or anything. Balgruuf says they are neutral."

Ralof tilts his head and rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. "Officially, that's true. But, it isn't any secret that Balgruuf is leaning toward the Empire, and they aren't exactly looking to do us any favors here."

I shrug, hopefully portraying how little I honestly care about his political squabbles, then turn north toward Windhelm and continue walking, picking up the pace as I go. "Let's head on to Windhelm then."

Ralof follows along, but not silently. "That's all you have to say on the subject?" he inquires, sounding a little disappointed or maybe even hurt.

"Pretty much," I say truthfully.

"You know, before you left Riverwood all those months ago I remember suggesting to you that you should go to Windhelm and join up with the Stormcloaks, too." He sounds like he's waiting for me to respond, but I do not oblige. I continue walking, maybe even faster now since he seems to be struggling to both keep up with me and carry on a conversation. Since I say nothing he adds, "I don't suppose you took my advice?"

I sigh, not letting it affect my newfound quick stride, "No, Ralof, I didn't."

"Well, why not?" he asks, though he doesn't sound surprised in the least.

"Look, can we not talk politics right now? We have more important things to take care of at the moment," is all I can manage to reply.

It's quiet for a moment, and I suddenly realize that he has stopped walking. I stop and turn around to face him. He has a serious look in his eye. "I said I would help you," he says, "and help you I will. But I don't think I can follow someone who has sided with the Empire without my knowledge."

Ugh. I rub my eyelids with my fingers in frustration. "I haven't sided with the Empire, Ralof. I haven't sided with anyone."

"Then at least give me your take on it," he says, growing more persistent and making me further aggravated. I briefly wonder if I would have been better off leaving him behind.

"I don't have a take on your silly war," I insist, then turn and continue walking.

"Everyone has a take," he continues. He is relentless.

I stop and turn again. This time, I decide that if I'm going to get anywhere with this man then I should at least be reasonable with him. "Alright, fine. I have a take, but it's not one I plan on sharing with you. If you can recall, I had a pretty difficult time getting you to come along with me in the first place." I gesture to the nearest wooden sign directing us to Windhelm. "We aren't that far from Riverwood yet. I give you my honest opinion and you could very easily decide to turn around and head back. Maybe I will tell you at some point in time, but not when we are so near to Riverwood. Not where you can abandon me so easily."

Ralof gazes at me for a long while, and I stand silently and wait for his response. In the back of my mind the thought that we are losing precious daylight continues to nag away at me. Finally, he sighs deeply and continues walking down the road toward me again. "Fine, you have a fair point. But you owe me a story when we get far enough away."

He walks past me, picking up his pace and I shake my head with a slight smile. "Have it your way," I chuckle silently to myself and begin walking, matching his stride, and we are finally on our way to Windhelm.


	3. Stormcloak Leader

I wake again due to the bright light shining on my face from the window of the inn. I shield my face from it with my hand and open my eyes to look around. For a brief moment I have forgotten where I am, but as clarity strikes I remember that we have spent the night in Candlehearth Hall in Windhelm. I vaguely recall that we had finally reached the wintery city hours after the darkness had already fallen. Suddenly it occurs to me that Ralof is not in the bed adjacent to mine as he had been when we were dozing off in the early hours of the morning. I sit up and scan the room once more to make sure my sleep-deprived mind isn't playing tricks on me… No, he's definitely not here.

After eating a quick bite of goat cheese and some cold mead to wash it down at the bar, I turn to the woman working behind the counter. "I was here with a man last night – Ralof was his name. Nord, sort of tall, blonde hair to his shoulders…" I begin describing him, and the bar maiden smirks at me as she dries a tankard with a towel. I suppress a groan as I realizing what she must be thinking.

"Sure," she says with humor. "I saw him. Said to tell you he would be at the Palace of the Kings and to come find him when you are ready to depart."

"Thanks," I say shortly, and leave a few extra coins on the counter as I depart from the rather large inn. The chill of the wind rips and bites at my flesh, and I hug my leather cloak tighter around me. I never much cared for the cold. I turn and look at the Palace of the Kings at the furthest part of the city, then turn away from it and head down an alleyway near the entrance of town. I have my own business to attend to.

I pass through aisles of wooden stands with merchants and their wares doing business – the normal hustle and bustle of Windhelm's Marketplace. I vaguely wonder what time it is, since I am normally awake and out of town by the time most markets open. I shield my eyes and quickly look at the position of the sun… It seems to be nearly noon already. I slept for quite a while. I shrug, noting that the trip to Dawnstar today is much shorter than the trip here was yesterday.

Ignoring the merchants that call to me in an attempt to attract my business, I reach a modest shop with a sign reading 'The White Phial' and step through the door into it, happy to leave the chill of the outside air. Inside, an old man stands behind the counter arguing with his assistant about something-or-other. I look around and find an alchemy station in the corner of the room. Heading over to it, I look back at the men behind the counter. The elder one gives me a passing glance, at which time I gesture to the station and he nods approvingly. I have permission to use it.

Setting down my bag, I pull out some of my usual ingredients: a pouch of blisterwort, butterfly wings, hawk feathers, and some charred skeever hide. I also pull out all my empty phials and set them out on the workspace table. Tuning out the argument behind me, I set to work creating.

Only a few minutes later, I have successfully refilled my phials and stored them back in my satchel with a feeling of accomplishment. I sling my bag back over my shoulder and then approach the counter where the two men are still arguing. As I get closer, however, they seem to quickly abandon their dispute with the common goal to help the customer. "Hello," says the old man with a gravelly, sick-sounding voice. "What can I do for you?"

"Hello," I say back as I watch his assistant begrudgingly head back to his duty of sweeping the shop's floor. "I just wanted to see what sort of ingredients you have for sale…"

"Oh, a bit of this and a bit of that," he says, and then continues on his regular rehearsed sales pitch. I can't help but notice, though, that after every few words he has to stop and let out a violent, retching cough.

"Excuse me," I stop him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he says curtly, and looks as if he is ready to continue his bartering.

"No, you're not," his assistant says with disdain. "You shouldn't even be up and running the shop in this condition."

"Don't be a fool, Quintus," he says sourly. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of business. I can't very well give up before I've even realized my dream." Quintus narrows his eyes scornfully at him then goes back to angrily pushing the dust across the floor with his broom.

"Er, you really do seem to be sick, sir," I say quietly, trying not to mean any offense. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Not unless you can find me the White Phial," he says with a chuckle, followed by another deafening cough. After his sickly fit, he widens his eyes as if he has realized something. "Wait a moment, maybe you _can_ help me!"

I look at him inquisitively and he continues, "My life's ambition has been to see the White Phial. It's supposed to be a phial crafted from Unmelting Snow gathered from the Throat of the World." His tale is interrupted by another fit of coughing, but then he composes himself and elaborates, "the White Phial is said to purify, amplify, and endlessly refill whatever liquid is put inside of it." His eyes light up with wonder for a moment as a smile crosses his face, but it quickly shatters as another round of coughing takes hold of him.

This legendary phial intrigues me. Can it really do what he claims, or is it is just the mad ramblings of a dying old man? My first instinct is to dismiss his outlandish babbling, but then I remember another incredible artifact that I had come across in my time with the Thieves Guild… Maybe such things _do_ exist. "I could probably help with that," I say with sincerity and his coughs quiet down, "if you can point me in the right direction."

The old man smiles at me, "Of course I can, but in order to get through the trials that would await you, you would have to me a master alchemist." My tiny flame of excitement gets snuffed out at that moment, for I am only a dabbler in alchemy and nowhere near the status of 'master'. But then he continues on with a sly smile, "Luckily for you, though, I have already brewed the potion that you'll need…"

He reaches underneath his side of the counter and pulls an iron strongbox from a shelf, placing it in front of him. He then lifts a chain from around his neck over his head revealing a small key that was previously hidden under his tunic hanging from it. He unlocks the box and pulls from it an unassuming green phial. "Here it is," he hands it to me with a smile, "take it to the Forsaken Cave… Do you have a map?" I nod and pull my map of Skyrim from my satchel, placing it in front of him. He looks at it for a moment, then takes the small key and pokes the smallest of holes into it. "That's where it is. Bring it to me when you find it… Maybe then I can die in peace," he turns and coughs into his elbow while I fold my map again and place back in my satchel.

I stare at the concoction in the green bottle and pick it up from the counter, "Er, I can just take this?" I say, hesitantly. For a moment I worry that this is all just a scam and now he's going to charge me a ridiculous amount for this 'miracle potion'.

"Take it," he says, "the sooner you do, the less likely I will be to take it and risk going there myself. Truth be told, I'm glad to be rid of it."

I'm surprised by his generosity. Maybe there is truth to this tale after all. I shove it into my bag then browse his other wares. I purchase a few more alchemy supplies, say a quick 'thank you', and then head back out into the cold and backtrack through the marketplace toward the Palace of the Kings. It is a short walk and before I know it, a guard is letting me pass through the large doors and I am out of the cold once again.

"There she is now," I hear a familiar voice say. I quickly scan the room for Ralof. He is standing on the opposite end of the hall from where I stand with his shield in one hand and his helmet in the other. Beside him is yet another familiar face, but not exactly a friendly one. I recognize him as Ulfric Stormcloak, the leader of the Stormcloak Rebellion. I had the 'pleasure' of meeting him on that fateful day in Helgen as well. I wonder briefly if he even knows who I am. "Come, Lhessil. Stand before the true High King!"

I roll my eyes at his remark, but stroll forward anyway. It is a long hall that leads directly to where a throne sits – the throne for the Jarl, another title that Ulfric holds. "Hello, Lhessil," Ulfric says as I draw nearer to them. His voice is deep and a tad intimidating. "Ralof has just been enlightening me on your situation. I understand you were with us in Helgen the day of the dragon attack?"

I nod slowly, saying nothing.

"Ah, I believe I recall it now. Another prisoner lined up for the chopping block. Am I correct?"

Once again, I nod.

"Not a very talkative one, I see," he says. "No matter, neither am I normally. Ralof also says that you may be a Dragonborn, is that right?"

I shoot an aggravated look at Ralof, who smiles innocently at me and shrugs. Ugh. I didn't wish for this news to get out – I'm not even terribly sure of it myself. But I look back at Ulfric and decide it can't hurt to give him another nod.

"You know, I too spent some time with the Greybeards in High Hrothgar," he says, and for some reason it sounds vaguely like a threat. "I was there about ten years actually, studying and developing my skills in the Way of the Voice. I was to become a Greybeard myself until I chose the life of a warrior. They weren't too thrilled about that, the pacifists that they are…"

He pauses as if waiting for a response from me but isn't granted one. He smirks and steps back. "Show us then, Dragonborn."

I furrow my eyebrows at him. "Excuse me?" I inquire.

"Show us a shout," he repeats. "If you really are as gifted as they say, it shouldn't be a problem for you, correct?"

My eyes widen. Is that a challenge? I wonder briefly if I should bother with this man, but at the same time I know I can't back down. Not when Ralof's pride is on the line. I walk with purpose to the end of the hallway near the throne then turn and face the long hallway toward the doors from which I entered. I take a deep breath to concentrate, as the Greybeards had shown me, and then let out a mighty, "FUS RO!"

A sudden harsh wind fills the palace, and a shockwave shakes the ground we stand on. The front doors shoot open forcefully, and I hear the clangs and bangs of bowls and goblets crash to the floor from various tables on which they previously sat. The guards that watch over the palace doors rush in to assess the situation. "My Jarl!" one of them calls down the hall with alarm. "What happened?"

Ulfric is too busy letting out a deep belly laugh to answer. Next to him, Ralof is still wide-eyed and frozen from the shock of the Shout. Finally Ulfric calms and says, "Impressive. Truly impressive. That was Unrelenting Force, yes?"

"Yes," I say simply.

"It seems you are missing the final word of power," he says, narrowing his eyes at me.

I narrow mine right back, saying nothing.

"At any rate, it seems that you are indeed the Dragonborn of legend." He steps a few strides closer to me and tilts his head. "I guess I should hope for all our sakes that you are on our side."

"I am on no one's side," I say, trying to mask the venom in my voice.

Ulfric leans back and smirks. "We will see just how long that lasts, friend."

Finally, I have had enough. "Ralof, I'm leaving," I say shortly, and walk swiftly back to the entrance of the palace. I hear Ulfric say a brief goodbye Ralof, which I think I hear him reply to, and then suddenly he is walking briskly beside me.

"That was amazing," Ralof says breathlessly, "You truly are a Dragonborn."

"Did you doubt me?" I say, trying to shake the anger from my voice.

"No, of course not," he responds quickly, "but I did hope to see you do that someday."

Suddenly my irritation melts. I look toward him and he reminds of a child with a sweet roll, thrilled as can be. I chuckle sweetly, "Alright, Ralof. Let's got get a horn." He smiles, following me out of the palace doors, and off we go to Dawnstar.


	4. Dawnstar

Ralof & I continue through the winding, snowy valleys on the road to Dawnstar. Much of the day has passed and the trip has been relatively uneventful beside the odd wolf attack every now and again. I know we should be reaching our destination soon as the sun is beginning to set, but the thought makes me almost sad. I have been enjoying myself these past few hours with Ralof, talking and joking like I haven't done in a long while. We have said nothing terribly important, just babble among friends. I am surprised at how quickly I am growing fond of Ralof's companionship.

"You there! Please help!" a man's shout startles us from our conversation, and we both draw our weapons – Ralof with his sword and me with a dagger in each hand. We look around for the source, and a man dressed in noble clothing is standing on a hillside near a forest clearing a little off the road up ahead. Ralof and I exchange glances, and wordlessly make the unanimous decision to sheathe our weapons. We walk cautiously toward the man and discover another mostly naked man lying on his stomach in the snow at his feet.

Upon realizing that he is hovering over what appears to be a dead body, I stop in my tracks for the sake of caution. Ralof, however, keeps moving forward. "What seems to be the trouble, friend?" he offers his kindness to the stranger.

"This man… He just collapsed, I don't know what is wrong with him," he says, his tone shaky.

"Calm yourself friend, let me see him," Ralof reaches the body and bends over to investigate… But I can't help feeling that something is not right.

"Ralof," I call, keeping my eyes on the stranger's every move. "Come back to the road," I urge.

"I'll be there in a moment, Lhessil. Let me just help this man." He rolls the lifeless man onto his back, and even from the road I can see what is really ailing him – there is old, dried blood all along the side of his neck.

I gasp and watch in horror as the stranger lunges toward my friend, "Ralof, look out!"

Ralof is quick. He has his sword out in an instance, but is still not swift enough to stop the man in time. As Ralof tries to swing his sword at him, the man catches his arm and loses no time before he sinks his teeth into it slowly. Ralof screams in agony, and before I even realize what I'm doing, I have retrieved the bow from my back and an arrow from my quiver. For a split second I have a clear shot of the stranger's head, and I take it.

The unknown man crumples into a pile in the snow, dragging Ralof's arm with him. I return my bow to its place and race over to assist Ralof. I get there just in time to watch Ralof rip his arm away from the stranger's teeth, taking off bits of his flesh as he does so. He lets out another cry in pain, and sinks down, coming to rest in a sitting position in the snow. His blood gushes out and dyes the snow in front of him a terrifying crimson.

I glance at the man I just took down, with an arrow sticking straight out of his skull. His eyes are red, but lifeless. "Vampire," I say to Ralof softly. "He must have killed this poor man and dressed in his clothes to disguise himself."

"Urgh!" Ralof cries out again, and I know he cannot hear me amidst his own pain. When I look back at him he is putting pressure on his arm with his good hand to try and stop the bleeding.

Quickly I sling my satchel in front of me and begin to rifle through it. I pull out the only two potions that I made earlier and offer them to him. "Here, Ralof. Drink these."

He opens his eyes to a squint and looks at the phials. "What are they?" he says through clenched teeth.

"Potions," I say simply. "One will tend your wounds and one will stop the vampire's venom from reaching your heart." He looks up at me as he begins to rock back and forth in agony. I can tell that he is hesitant to accept my gift. I sigh, "You know, unless you would rather turn into a vampire in a few days."

With that, he snatches the bottles from me with his good hand, then rips off both corks with his teeth and guzzles them down together. He drops the empty containers in the snow and I retrieve them, putting them carefully back into my satchel. Moments later, his skin is actively repairing itself, and the blood vessels that had begun to turn purple return to their natural color.

"Agh," he says as the effects take hold of him, and his tone suggests that it feels strange but also feels better. I smile, suddenly glad that I decided to stop into the alchemy shop in Windhelm only hours before. "I've never actually used any of those before. Sort of gave me the willies." He seems to be almost back to his regular self.

"Handy, aren't they?" I smile, and as his skin finishes repairing itself he grips a handful of snow and attempts to wash off the excess blood from his arm.

"Sure," he says with a hint of caution. "Did you make those potions?"

"Yes, I did," I say as I bend over and begin searching the vampire's pockets. I find a few coins and stuff them into my own coin purse. Ralof watches me with a judgmental expression. To this, I respond, "Um, I'm a thief."

He rolls his eyes and picks up his sword and shield that ended up in the snow during the fiasco. He seems to be giving my actions a pass for now, probably because I just effectively saved his life.

"Well, we are nearly to Dawnstar," he says as he looks ahead. I follow his gaze, and from the elevated mountainside I can see the edge of the town shortly down the road. "Shall we?" he says, though his mood seems hardly cheerful – not that I can blame him.

"Let's go," I say in response, and with that we clamber back down the mountainside and set foot back on the cobble stoned path, following it toward our destination and finally reaching it just as the last light of the sun sets.

It takes us a few minutes to discover the inn on the upper hill portion of the small town. Neither of us is too familiar with the town, as it is in a very remote location. Finally we walk through the doors to Windpeak Inn, a modest housing that reminds me very much of the Sleeping Giant back in Riverwood. There is a fire blazing in the hearth – a welcome comfort from the cold atmosphere outside. We are greeted by an older strawberry blonde Nord gentleman behind the counter, and I realize that the inn is basically deserted. "Greetings, friends," he says to us and motions us over to the counter. We follow his request and approach him. "What brings you to Dawnstar?"

Ralof and I exchange a fleeting glance and he shrugs at me. "Er, just some errands," I say shortly. "We'd like a room for the night."

"Sure thing, that'll be 10 gold," he says, and Ralof and I both reach for our coin pouches and pull out 5 gold each, placing them in the Nord's outstretched hand. He counts them for himself then motions with his free hand toward a door near the fireplace. "It's yours for the day," he says. "My name is Thoring, you can call on me if you need anything." He then motions toward a young woman standing in the corner behind the counter that I hadn't noticed until now. "This is my daughter Karita, she's our house bard and can offer some entertainment if you desire. Just stoked the fire; make yourselves at home."

I nod with appreciation to Thoring then we head into our assigned room. The beds are just as shabby here as anywhere else, made from wood and hay with only an animal skin for covering. I sigh and set my satchel on one of the two beds while Ralof does the same on the other. What I wouldn't give for some cotton sheets. I remove my bow, quiver, and leather cloak from my back and place them all on a nearby end table. I then sit on my bed and watch Ralof get himself settled in as well.

Surprisingly, I don't find myself to be very tired even after the recent vampire attack. The trip was relatively short and without much incident. Ralof finishes fiddling with his things and turns to face me, putting his fists on his hips. He doesn't seem to be very tired either. "I think I might have a drink before I settle in for the night. Would you like to join me?" he asks politely.

I nod eagerly and stand back up to follow Ralof into the dining area of the tavern. He orders us a couple of meads while I look around the room again. We seem to be the only patrons here. My guess is because of the remote location. Ralof hands me my tankard and we stroll over to a small table in front of the fireplace. Karita follows us over with her lute and plays us a soft, relaxing melody while we drink.

Ralof takes a sip and then looks at me from across the table as if he has something on his mind. "What is it?" I ask intuitively.

"I think we are far enough from Riverwood now," he says simply. "You're not in any danger of having me run out on you anymore. Would you like to tell me what your take on the war is now?"

Oh, this again. "Not particularly," I mutter under my breath to myself as I raise my drink to my lips and shift my eyes away from him, attempting to avoid the subject.

"Why not?" he says sounding offended. Apparently he heard my earlier remark.

I take a deep breath and set my drink down, looking him in the eyes again seriously. "Because I have to know that you will have my back at Ustengrav tomorrow. If I say something you don't like, maybe you'd be less willing to help me out."

Something in my words hits Ralof the wrong way. He straightens up and screws up his face in anger. "You think that little of me as a warrior? You assume I would allow my own personal feelings to get in the way of protecting a comrade?" he asks with a whispering, menacing tone.

Suddenly my statement hits me the wrong way as well and I start to feel remorse for them. "I'm sorry. No, I don't think that," I sigh, and his face softens.

"So tell me then," he says. When I still hesitate, he adds, "I am with you, Lhessil. I will fight by your side faithfully at Ustengrav no matter what bad blood comes between us tonight." Still, I say nothing – mainly because I am trying to figure out how to put my thoughts into words. Ralof continues through my silence, "If you are so afraid to tell me your opinion, you must think very badly of the Stormcloaks."

"No, it's nothing like that," I say finally. At this point, Karita's lute is a welcome comfort to my confusing thoughts. "I just don't get it, that's all. I mean, I understand your reasons – Ulfric killed the High King, and in Nord traditions that means that he should take over as High King… unless I'm mistaken?" I say with question to him.

He shakes his head, "No, you are correct. Go on."

"Alright," I say, and desperately try and scramble the words together even as I speak them, "I just kind of feel like that is sort of… I don't know…" I pause as I try and pin down the right words, "Dishonorable."

I wait for his response, but other than his eyes suddenly getting very wide he gives no hint of a rebuttal, so I push forward, "He killed him for his own personal gain. That is just plain murder in my book." I am sure that I have thoroughly offended him by now, but since I am already digging myself a hole, I decide to lay it all on the line. "And he killed him with a Shout," I say softly. "The Greybeards spent ten years teaching him the Way of the Voice and that you should only use Shouts to promote peace… and then he turns around and uses it to kill."

Ralof's surprised expression melts into a somber one, and he looks down at the table and begins picking slivers out of it with his fingernails slowly as he contemplates my words. "I suppose you are right," he says quietly. "Maybe Ulfric's methods were a little unorthodox." He pauses for a moment, then with sudden newfound confidence he states, "But I have faith that Ulfric only did what had to be done to put the wheels in motion for a revolution."

"Why the need for the revolution anyway? What was High King Torygg doing that was so awful to Skyrim?" I whisper, strain obvious in my voice.

"We need the revolution," he says, pounding his fist on the table and shaking all the objects on it around a little. Karita's gentle strumming suddenly ceases, and she turns and walks away slowly with a fearful look on her face. "The Empire betrayed us! They agreed to allow the worship of Talos in exchange for Ulfric's help in battle, and then they allowed him to help and took back their agreement as soon as it was convenient for them."

I begin to say something in response, but his fit of rage cuts me off, "Ulfric did not _murder_ the High King like those Imperials claim. He challenged him to a traditional formal duel in the Old Nord Way. Torygg accepted his challenge and lost, it is as simple as that."

"So Ulfric says," I say gingerly, not wanting to poke the beast that has awaked within him.

"I trust Ulfric's word with my life," he says, and a reverence sweeps over him that discards his anger. "And he deserves to be High King. We will fight until he receives his rightful title."

Now it's my turn to get angry. "Alright, fine. How do you propose that you are going to get that to happen?"

"Well," suddenly his demeanor is logical and strategic, "the vote for the new High King hasn't been cast yet, so first we would probably try and get the Jarls from each hold to sway their votes in Ulfric's favor."

"How are you going to manage that?" I say with spite. "I don't suppose Ulfric is just going to waltz into every city and have a friendly sit down with each one of them?"

"No, admittedly there may be some force involved," he says simply, without changing his expression.

"Who would you go after first?" I ask, and I know there is venom in my tone.

"When I spoke with Ulfric this morning he mentioned plans to sway Jarl Balgruuf's vote first," he says matter-of-factly.

I tighten my lips into an aggravated line. "Exactly," I say, "You Stormcloaks are going to find out one way or the other who Balgruuf will vote for to be High King when the time for the Moot comes. If you don't like his answer, you storm his city."

Ralof nods, drumming his fingers on the table as if he sees nothing wrong with this in the slightest. "You waltz in, probably kill all of the guards on the way up to Dragonsreach, and then demand Balgruuf's support. Suppose you still don't get your way, then what?"

Suddenly Ralof's eyes are filled with a bit of unease. "Er, we would probably imprison him until he changes his mind," he says nervously.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Jarl Balgruuf is my friend," my words are drenched with malice. "He guided me through the whole Dragonborn mess when I got to Whiterun. He named me Thane of Whiterun as a sign of friendship. I don't approve of anyone who plots to attack my friends."

Ralof is stunned. He takes a large guzzle of his mead and polishes it off quickly, I think while he is searching for the words with which to reply. Finally he says, "I didn't know that you were named a Thane of Whiterun."

"Well, I was," I sit back in my chair, suddenly losing my appetite for the drink that sits in front of me. I don't expect him to understand that I feel like Whiterun is my unofficial home – even more so than Riften.

"Where's your housecarl then?" he asks.

I think back to when I was named Thane. Balgruuf gifted me a special axe, which I left behind with him. He also assigned me a warrior whom he called a 'housecarl' to aid me in my travels. I respectfully declined his offer. "I don't particularly care for having people I don't know or trust following me around," I say, expecting him to get the hint.

He does. "Oh," he says simply. "Look, it's nothing personal…"

"You attack my friend and you make it personal," I interrupt him intentionally.

He shuffles around in his chair uncomfortably then says, "What about me? Aren't I your friend?"

His words melt my contempt. I know I would also feel some disdain for the Empire should any harm come to Ralof by their hand. I sigh and rub my temples methodically with confusion. "You see why I don't want to get involved? No good can come from war. I don't want harm to come to anyone."

Ralof smiles ever so slightly and raises his mug. "I'll drink to that," he says as he raises it to his lips. He is taken aback when he realizes that his tankard is already empty. I chuckle loudly when he gives me a befuddled look as if he can't remember finishing it off. He chuckles back and I know in that moment that our friendship has survived the heated conversation.

"I'm heading to bed," I stand and say as my laughter dies down. "We have a big day tomorrow."

"Ustengrav," he says as he stands from his chair as well, "can't wait."


	5. Ustengrav

We stand at the brim of a large, paved hole in the ground and peer down into it. It has a narrow staircase spiraling down the wall and what appears to be a bandit's dead body near a large wooden door which I guess is the entrance. I look toward Ralof who is also scanning the pit with curiosity. He looks back at me and says, "This is it?"

"That's what my map says," I hold up my map of Skyrim and double check the location that the Greybeards marked for me, comparing it to our own surroundings. "Yes, this is Ustengrav."

Ralof sighs, "I had honestly pictured a small village or something when you called it by a formal name. It looks more like a tomb, though."

"Well, we are looking for a dead man's possession… It makes sense that it would be located in a tomb," I shrug and wonder why this hadn't occurred to me before.

Suddenly he looks shocked, "Do you think that this is the final resting place of Jurgen Windcaller?"

"That's what makes the most sense to me," I say. A large smile crosses his face, and suddenly he is throwing on his helmet and practically sprinting down the spiral staircase into the pit. "Hey, wait for me!" I call as I follow him with a grin.

We stop outside the door and take a closer look at the bandit's body slumped over near it. It's starting to smell, ugh. "We must be wary," he says. "We don't know if there are more of them inside, or what else might await us within for that matter."

I nod understandingly, withdraw my bow from its position on my back, and ready an arrow. Ralof gently pushes the door open and I crouch down and step inside without making a sound. Ralof follows close behind me, though his steps are much noisier. Ugh, I had forgotten what it was like to travel with someone. I will have to make sure he hangs back if I need to sneak ahead for any reason.

Inside it looks more like a narrow cave than a tomb. There are moss-covered rocks everywhere and very little light. We follow the carved tunnel under the hillside with extreme caution and it doesn't take long before I hear noises coming from the path ahead. I make a motion for Ralof to stop. He does so and we listen intently.

It sounds vaguely like a battle. I can hear the clangs of weapons and the sizzles of magic. "Stay here a second," I whisper, and Ralof does as I ask which surprises me a little. I sneak quietly ahead, hugging the rocky walls. When I reach a fork in the tunnel I stop and very carefully peer around the corner. _Necromancers_! They are already engaged in battle, but with whom? I peer closer and as my eyes begin to adjust to the darkness I see their opponents – bandits.

I carefully tiptoe back to Ralof and update him on the situation. "There are necromancers and bandits killing each other off down there. I think we should just wait until the noise dies down and pick off whoever is left."

Ralof nods in agreement. We carefully creep back to the fork with our ears alert. It seems that whatever fighting we were hearing has already stopped because there is only silence. I peer around the corner again and see a lone necromancer sitting at a table with a book. Looking around, I don't see anyone or anything else, so I carefully step out past the wall and take my aiming stance. It doesn't take long to steady myself before I release the arrow and it flies with ease through the air and finds its target easily. I hear the necromancer groan as the arrow penetrates his chest cavity and slips out of his chair and onto the hard ground.

"Nice shot," says Ralof with an impressed expression. He is peering around my shoulder.

"Thanks," I say with pride as I put my bow away momentarily. We stroll down some wooden stairs in the large clearing and head over to where a small pile of dead bandits and necromancers lay. I quickly check all their pockets, finding a few septims in almost each one then look around for anything else that may help us as we spelunk further. Ralof, surprisingly, is also looking around for resources. "I thought you didn't approve of stealing," I smirk.

"Well, these were only bandits and necromancers. They more than likely came upon these things dishonorably anyway."

I squint at him, sort of taken aback. "The last person I stole from was a vampire, and you seemed a little offended about that."

"I wasn't offended that you were stealing from the vampire, I was offended that you might be stealing from that poor soul who fell at the vampire's hands," he clarifies.

Oh. I hadn't thought of it that way. I decide to end that subject of conversation and quietly continue looking around.

When we have looted everything we desire from the large room, we move further through the crevices in the cavern. There seem to be no further enemies, so we relax a little as we journey onward. The twists and turns of the rocky tunnels are long and sporadic, there seems to be no end in sight. The darkness is overwhelming and at times we cannot see our hands in front of our noses, but we make do and continue on. After an impossibly long time, we finally see a faint light and hike toward it.

The light source is coming from the sun. Its rays are shining through cracks and crevices above us in a large open area with a giant waterfall gushing out of a high wall and filling a river below us. We have entered through an opening near the top of the atrium. There is a long, thin rock bridge that spans across the diameter of the space. It looks stable enough, so we head toward it watching our step – it is a long way down.

Halfway across it I stop dead in my tracks and listen. I hear something… but it is not like any enemy I have ever heard. In fact, it sounds like nothing I have ever heard before. Ralof stops just short of running into me and looks at me with question. "What is it?"

"Do you hear that?" I ask with a whisper. It seems to be increasing in volume. It sounds almost like a chant made up of a very large chorus, but that seems odd due to the location we are in.

Ralof is silent for a moment then finally he reports, "I don't hear anything."

"Shh!" I urge, and he does so. It seems to be coming from below us, so I look over the side of the bridge and examine the bottom of the clearing. Ralof looks at me with a concerned expression, but then follows my gaze to investigate as well. "Wait, what is that?" I point to a rather large, smooth stone face near the base of the waterfall.

"Hmm, I don't know," Ralof answers. "It looks unlike any natural rock formation I've ever seen. It must be manmade."

For some reason I suddenly feel compelled to check it out. I look around the walls of the stony room, searching for a way down and quickly find it. There seems to be some kind of a stone ramp around the perimeter of the atrium leading down to the bottom via a pathway that we had completely missed before. "I'm going," is all I say to Ralof before I turn around and sprint briskly toward it.

"I'll stay and watch your back," he says. "I have a good view from up here."

I hear his words but don't acknowledge them. As I follow the downward path the cryptic voices are becoming so loud now, it baffles me that Ralof still seems oblivious to it. It seems as if the booming voices are echoing off every surface making it hard to tell where it is originating from, but for some reason my body seems to instinctively know the way, and I head toward it. Eventually I stand face to face with the smooth rock. It is at least twice my size and has hundreds of runes engraved into it. It looks vaguely like some kind of writing but I cannot read it.

As I approach it, a section of the runes suddenly blazes a bright blue and a swift breeze creates itself from nothingness. It rips through the clearing and I can almost feel it encircling me. My platinum hair whips wildly around my face, and for a moment I even feel weightless but I let it consume me without fear. The chanting is deafening now, directing all my senses toward it so that I am aware of nothing but its sound. Still, it feels natural. I feel safe.

"Feim," a deep voice whispers to me as the chorus cuts off with incredible precision. I feel as if this foreign word becomes imprinted on my mind. Although I know it is a word I have never heard in my lifetime, I can't help the fact that I know its meaning… 'Fade'.

Without warning, the wind halts and all my senses return making me suddenly aware of what just happened to me. It makes me short of breath and I collapse on the dirt beneath me, barely managing to catch myself with my outstretched arms. It takes all the strength I have to keep from passing out altogether, but somehow I manage to stay conscious.

"Lhessil!" I hear Ralof shouting for me. "Lhessil, are you alright?"

I can make out the sound of him clambering down the rocky ramp ledge toward me, but my sight is still returning so I do not see him. "I'm fine," I manage to call back, though I'm not sure how far my voice is carrying currently.

In an instant, Ralof's hand is on my shoulder, his other under my arm. I think he is attempting to help me to my feet, so I try to cooperate with him. "What was that?" he asks, alarm obvious in his voice.

I stand and suddenly my senses return to normal. I blink a few times to refocus my vision then look at Ralof. "I think it was a Word of Power," I say blankly.

"What in Oblivion is that?" he still sounds wary.

"The Greybeards taught me Shouts using Words of Power in High Hrothgar," I explain, rubbing my temples. "They etched them into the ground and I was able to learn them by being near them… but it was nothing at all like that."

"Oh," says Ralof shortly as he studies my condition. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I repeat myself. He must not have heard me earlier after all.

"So, does that mean you know a new Shout now?" he asks, attempting to mask the excitement in his voice which he fails miserably at.

"No," I sigh. This experience was different than the times I learned new Shouts in High Hrothgar. "It was strange. It's almost as if I learned the word, but not the knowledge required to make it a Shout. It was like learning half a Shout," I say as I try to make out what just happened.

"Oh," he says again. This time he sounds disappointed. "Well, are you alright to move on? We still have to retrieve the horn."

I nod gingerly and turn to leave after glancing at the strange runes on the wall one last time. The bright blue light that had been emanating from it is now gone. "Right," I say as I turn to leave. "Let's go."

With that we climb back up the upward pathway and end up back on the high bridge. We use it to exit out the other end of the atrium, and suddenly we are back in almost darkness again. However, this time it doesn't take long to reach another interesting area. As we step into a large paved room, I am startled as various torches and lamps blaze to life, lighting the stony room we stand in.

"What sort of magic was that?" he asks me, as if I had anything to do with it.

"It wasn't me," I reply simply.

Dropping the subject, we walk onward. The room seems to be relatively empty and without consequence except for three tall stones jetting out from the ground in front of us. I approach one cautiously and am startled yet again when it blazes to life with a gentle orange glow, revealing more strange runes that are carved on its face. It makes a quiet pulsating sound as it remains lit up.

As I step back, the light it radiated dies down almost instantaneously. I look back toward Ralof, who is watching my actions and gives me a shrug. I glance around the room for a moment, half hoping that activating the stone had done anything to our surroundings, but it seems as though it has not. I gingerly step toward the stone again, and once more it blazes to life.

"Maybe all three stones need to be activated?" questions Ralof as he walks toward the second stone just ahead of mine. As he walks up to it… nothing happens. He looks at it with a puzzled expression then strokes his hand on the top of it gently – still nothing.

"Maybe it's broken?" I ask as I step away from my own stone and toward his. As I get closer, we both jump as the second stone blazes to life as the first one had. Ralof looks at me with wide eyes from his defensive stance. I simply give him a shrug of my own.

"Is it because you're Dragonborn?" he asks.

"I don't know," I answer honestly. Just to test things out, I step away from the second stone and toward the last stone of the room – the furthest one in. It follows the example of the stones before it and blazes to life. Still, nothing happens. I shrug and decide that maybe they aren't meant to do anything. "Well, let's continue on."

"We can't," he responds. "Look." I look toward Ralof and he is motioning toward the far side of the room. I turn from him to look at where he is motioning and immediately understand. There is a large metal gate blocking the pathway ahead.

"Wait," Ralof says. "Just run by them quickly and see if lighting them all up together will open the way." I look back at him with puzzled inquisition and he shrugs at me. "It's worth a try, isn't it?"

He's right, and as I look toward the gate once more I notice that there doesn't seem to be any levers or pulleys that indicate that we can open it manually, something Ralof must have already figured out. I don't have any better ideas, so I oblige his request and walk back toward the entrance of the room. To my surprise, as I face the closed gate again I realize that his plan might just work. I hadn't noticed it before, but the stones seem to be placed in the perfect positions for me to be able to run by them and toward the gate in a straight line.

With a newfound confidence in this plan, I take a moment to ready myself to run and then begin sprinting as quickly as I can between the stones. To my pleasure, they all light up without consequence and the gate opens, retracting quickly into the top of the doorway that houses it. I smile with delight and continue to run toward the gate at full speed. However, the very moment before I reach the gate, it slams back down onto the floor with a deafening crash and at an incredible speed. My eyes widen with surprise and I barely manage to stop myself before slamming directly into it. However, I was so near to it that I let out a gasp in shock – had I been moving any faster it could have easily pulverized me.

"Whoa!" Ralof exclaims as he jogs toward the gate as well to examine it. "Lucky you weren't underneath it when that happened." I breathe heavily and nod, a little shaky after my near-death experience. "What do you think happened?" he asks. "Why did it close again?"

"I'm not sure," I reply, "but I have an idea. The stones don't stay activated for very long after I walk away from them, do they? Maybe it just has sort of a time limit."

"It's possible," he says, "But it was so fast. How would anyone expect to get through it in time?"

For some reason, his words make my mind race back to that day in High Hrothgar and the Shouts that the Greybeards taught me. Suddenly it all makes sense. "I think I know," I say as I turn and walk toward the entrance of the room once more.

Ralof follows, but steps off toward the side of the room to watch and stay out of my way. As I reach my starting position once more I turn and face the closed gate again. I close my eyes and take a moment of concentration as the Greybeards had shown me to do before using a Shout.

When I feel ready, I suddenly take off again toward the gate. Each of the stones light up, and again the gate shoots open. This time, though, I am taking a different approach. "WULD!" I shout – and instantaneously I am whipping through the space, my feet barely touching the ground. Before I know it I am past the gate and have already turned to face it with a moment to spare before it slams back down.

Ralof jogs toward the gate and looks at me through the wrought iron. "Was that a Shout?" he asks with amazement.

"Yes," I reply, and I suddenly realize I am a little short of breath. "The Greybeards taught it to me. It's called Whirlwind Sprint. That and Unrelenting Force are the only ones I know."

"Very nice," Ralof says with a smile.

Suddenly I make a grave realization. "I should have let you through first, though! Now there's no way to open the gate again."

"It's alright," Ralof says with a shake of his head. "I get the feeling that whatever is through here was meant for the Dragonborn's eyes only. There must be a way for you to get back out again if you go forward. I will go and wait for you back at the entrance."

I nod with understanding and feel a little somber as I watch Ralof turn and walk away from me. From this point on I am on my own. I turn and walk down some stone steps that are ahead of me and travel through a mossy hallway into yet another large opening. This one is lit up with the rays of the sun, similar to the waterfall room we had passed through earlier.

There is a large body of water ahead of me with a thin stone bridge cutting through it and leading to the far end of the room. I look beyond it and see a giant metal structure with various urns and artifacts surrounding it – I think it's a crypt. _Maybe Jurgen Windcaller's crypt_, I think to myself. I must be close.

Without hesitation I begin walking the narrow pathway. I only travel on it a few feet before I suddenly feel the ground shaking under my boots. The water surrounding me shakes violently and begins splashing up onto my walkway. I fear that the bridge is disappearing under the water beneath me, so I make a split second decision to run the length of the remaining bridge before that happens.

I get to the other side with little consequence other than wet boots and becoming a little out of breath again. I turn to face the water and find that the bridge hadn't gone under like I thought it might – in fact, there are large statuesque structures rising slowly from underneath the water on either side. I watch them continue to rise in awe, and a moment later they come to a halt and the shaking in the room ceases, the sloshing water calming. I look at them with interest, but don't dare move toward them again. They seem to be carvings of dragon heads or something of the like. They look ancient. _No matter_, I tell myself. _I must continue on._

As I turn around, I can see the metal crypt more closely and walk casually toward it. It is also etched with the strange markings similar to the Word of Power's stone. What is with these engravings anyway? They seem to be scattered all throughout this place… Suddenly it occurs to me – Dragon Language. At least, that's what the Greybeards had called it. What else could it be in the tomb of Jurgen Windcaller, the supposed master of Dragon Shouts? It feels strange that I am supposed to be this mythical 'Dragonborn' of legend and yet cannot read its writing.

My eyes scan the artifacts spread out around the top and perimeter of the crypt. It doesn't take long before I find a sculpted metal hand jetting out of the top of the tomb. It looks like something important should be placed there, but all that sits in the clenched hand is a rolled up piece of paper. I quirk an eyebrow at it with interest, then reach up and grab it cautiously. As I pull it loose of the sculpture's grasp it doesn't seem to trigger a trap or anything of the like, so I go about opening it up.

My eyes widen as I realize with surprise that it is a note… and it is addressed to me.

Dragonborn - -

I need to speak to you. Urgently.

Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I'll meet you.

- - A friend

What? How could anyone have possibly known that I would be here? How did they get past the gate? Maybe this note is ancient and was meant for a previous Dragonborn. I examine it closely and realize the note isn't faded, and is actually relatively clean and without dirt or dust stains. It's new. My mind races with questions. Did the Greybeards tell someone that I would be coming? Who could it be from? Why all the mystery? And most importantly… where is the horn?

I stuff the note into my satchel and kneel, frantically beginning a search among the tomb's artifacts for anything that could be considered a 'horn'. To my dismay I find nothing, even after sifting through the ashes of all the urns. Did this person take it? What can I do? I stand, hanging my head as I do so. I'm suddenly overcome with a fit of aggravation and slam my fist down on top of the metal tomb. It makes a loud, dull ringing sound that echoes off the stone walls and rattles the objects around the crypt. My first task as a Dragonborn and I can't even manage to do it.


	6. The White Phial

"What do you mean 'gone'?" Ralof asks with exasperation as we walk back toward Dawnstar. I have just met him outside Ustengrav after finding a hidden pathway inside that led me back near the entrance. "How could anyone other than you have gotten through that gate? It has to be there! Maybe you just didn't look hard enough."

"Stop, Ralof!" I exclaim with irritation. "I searched everywhere. It's not there. Besides that, obviously someone else _has _been in there because they left me a note." He looks at me with inquisition, so I reach into my satchel as we walk, grasp the note without any delicacy and stuff it into Ralof's outstretched hand.

He scans the note quickly and inhales sharply. "I don't believe it. They must have it, then!"

I nod in agreement. "I doubt the Greybeards would have sent me on a wild goose chase. It was there originally, I know it. It's just not anymore."

"They're in Riverwood… is that where we are going, then?" he asks.

I sigh and find myself massaging my temples with confusion. "I don't know. I guess we don't really have a choice, do we?" Realizing what I had just said, I glance back at Ralof who is still studying the note with intensity. "Well, I mean… I don't have a choice. You do, you know."

This seems to grab Ralof's attention. He looks at me with a bewildered expression. "You didn't seem to need much of my help back there," he says, and my heart sinks a little. Maybe he has decided to abandon me. "But I would like to accompany you through this to the end, if you'll let me."

My heart is lifted again and I smile warmly at him. It's been nice getting to know Ralof, and I have to admit that I would be lonely without him. "Of course," I answer, trying not to give any hint as to how worried I was that he would leave me. I think I succeed.

We manage to make it back to the edge of Dawnstar before the sun has even begun its descent. I'm impressed with how much of the day we have left, and as I begin thinking more about it I stop walking and look back at the road behind us. Ralof stops almost in unison with me and follows my gaze. "What is it?"

"I was just thinking…" I trail off. Maybe I shouldn't divulge my exact plans to him – he may not approve. "I sort of have this… errand to run, and there's plenty of time left in the day. Maybe I should go take care of it quickly."

"Oh?" Ralof asks with obvious surprise. "I thought we might have a rest for a while and head back to Windhelm tomorrow, if that's what you were thinking."

I shake my head, "No, I wasn't planning to head back today… It's something else."

I look toward him and find that he is taking off his helmet. He tucks it under his right arm and shakes out his golden hair before tilting his head to the side and looking at me with wonder. "What, is it some kind of big secret?"

I bite my bottom lip. Is it a secret? Not really, I just don't want to bother him with it honestly. "No," I answer truthfully. "I just didn't think you would want to come."

He scoffs. I think he's becoming impatient with me. "Well, tell me what it is then maybe I'll decide," he says with a tone that makes it sound as if this should have been obvious from the beginning.

"It's sort of like a treasure hunt," I say, stretching my words and speaking them slowly, as I still haven't decided whether or not I even want him to come along.

"Sort of?" he asks. "Is it a treasure hunt or isn't it?"

Ugh, this is becoming ridiculous. I'm tired of this, and decide to go with the truth. "Look," I say with exasperation. "I met this shopkeeper in Windhelm who told me about a magic phial that endlessly refills whatever liquid you put into it. The cave it's supposed to be in isn't far from here, so I was going to look into it. Alright?"

Ralof holds up his hands in front of him defensively. "Alright, alright. I didn't mean any offense," he says gingerly, but I can see a smile creeping onto his face. Apparently he is finding humor in my irritation. "I'll come with you."

"Fine," I say shortly. I then turn swiftly around, my shoulder-length hair flipping around my face as I do so, restrained only by the circlet crowning my head. I walk, finding a quick stride along the road toward Windhelm and pull out my map to check the location the alchemist marked for me again. Ralof manages to catch up with me a moment later and begins walking along beside me. I glance up toward him and see his ridiculous smile still plastered on his face. I glare at my map and pretend not to notice.

"Hey, hey, slow down!" he says with a chuckle. "I didn't mean to upset you."

I say nothing and continue trudging along the path.

"Wait, wait!" He jogs in front of me on the road then comes to an abrupt halt. I almost run into him because of it, and it forces me to stop as well. I attempt to go around him but he stretches out his arms to prevent me from doing so. "Wait," he repeats, and he sounds almost somber.

Yanking the map down to my side, I glare up at him. I meet his frost blue eyes and they look full of worry, which makes my face automatically soften. I'm surprised by this; after all he seemed to be in such a good mood only a moment ago. It catches me off-guard and I find myself staring up at him with only inches between us. As he looks down at me his shoulder-length tresses almost caress my cheeks and his scent fills my nostrils. Amazingly, he actually smells pleasant – not unlike a forest.

After a moment I suddenly realize that I have been lost looking at him without saying anything for a time. I flush a deep red and step back from him. What was that all about? "What?" I ask because I cannot think of anything else to say, though the anger that was originally in my voice has evaporated.

Ralof snaps out of it himself, then offers me the mysterious note that I had given to him near Ustengrav. The expression he gives me as I take it is one of apology. I look at the note and gingerly stretch out my own hand, taking it as if it were a peace offering. "I'm sorry," he says softly – though I have already forgotten why I was upset with him to begin with.

"Let's…. Let's just go," I say quietly, and we begin walking again down the road together.

It takes a couple of hours before we reach our destination, and to my surprise it is only just off the road to Windhelm behind some snowy hills. We stand outside the large opening of the cave and examine it. It has a thick ice layer creeping into the mouth of it. It looks freezing. All I have for protection against the cold is my leather cloak, and suddenly I wonder if this is going to be worth the trouble or not.

"Are you sure this is the place?" asks Ralof as he cocks his head, still squinting at it and studying it intently.

"I'm sure," I say with a little shiver as I clutch my arms tightly. Why do these Nords insist on living in a place that is so cold all the time? It doesn't seem to bother Ralof in the slightest.

"Cold?" Ralof smirks at me, and I glare at him in response. He chuckles then looks at the cave again. "This place is just right off the road! There's no way someone hasn't come in and looted the place already."

"The old man at the alchemy shop said that only a master alchemist could reach the area where the White Phial is," I respond, and instinctively I put a hand inside my satchel and dig around, feeling to make sure the concoction is still there. My fingers find it quickly, and I let out a small sigh of relief.

"Oh, does that mean you are a master alchemist then?" Ralof's words are drenched with sarcasm, and he folds his arms and quirks an eyebrow at me as he says this.

I take a little more offense to this than I probably should, so just to aggravate him I respond confidently, "Of course." I then walk toward the cave entrance, flipping my hair behind me as I go just to spite him.

As we near the cave, I hear a low growl. Instinctively I ready my bow with an arrow and crouch down behind a small snowy mound. Ralof follows my example, readying his sword and shield. "Did you hear something?" he asks.

I nod, amazed at how under developed his hearing is. "An animal, I think," I answer, squinting over the mound to see if I can spot anything. We wait for a rather long moment, but nothing comes.

"Maybe it is taking refuge in the cave," Ralof suggests with a whisper. "We might have to get closer."

He is more than likely right, but I don't acknowledge the fact. Instead, I begin creeping out from behind the mound, my bow ready to fire even as I walk. Ralof follows closely behind me. We climb up the snowy slope and finally reach the side of the entrance. I get down on one knee for stability as I peer inside and see a large white wolf pacing around the ice-covered ground. Without a second thought, I take aim and fire.

The arrow goes straight into its side – a perfect shot. The wolf lets out a loud, echoing yelp… but doesn't go down. I widen my eyes as it turns toward me and bares its teeth. I go to grasp another arrow from my quiver, but the icy wolf is already bounding toward me with the arrow bouncing around from its flesh as if it had only been hit by a toothpick.

Ralof lets out a loud Nordic battle cry and runs toward the wolf in an instant, his sword raised. The wolf changes targets, heading directly for Ralof and giving me an extra moment to think clearly. I pull my daggers from the belt on my waist and turn to help Ralof, but as I do I look up from my crouched position only to find a second white, snowy wolf glaring down at me inches from my face. It is growling low and maliciously.

Although I can hear Ralof struggling with the original wolf in the background and my first instinct is to help him, I try my best not to make any sudden movements. I'm not sure why the wolf isn't attacking me, but I don't have time to try and figure it out. My mind is busy trying to figure out what my next move is. Finally I come up with a plan. I take a slow, deep breath all the while staring into the wolf's big, empty eyes. Suddenly I unleash a loud, "FUS!" and the force of my Shout send the wolf flying backward a few feet – plenty of time for me to put my plan into motion.

I pull my daggers from my leather waistband and with almost unbelievable speed and grace I leap forward onto the wolf before it has a chance to recover. I land astride it while it squirms on its side beneath me and desperately tries reaching its head into a position from which it can clench its large teeth into my flesh. Without hesitation I stab both daggers into either side of the wolf from where I sit – one sinks into the wolf's back and one into its belly. The wolf yelps but does not die, so I twist them both simultaneously with all my might. Its blood pours down the hill, staining the snowy ground and drenches my hands and leg. Almost instantaneously it goes limp and drops its head to the ground, ceasing all movement.

As soon as I am certain of the wolf's demise, I whirl around and check on Ralof's situation. To my surprise, he has already handled his foe and is walking back toward me again. The other large wolf lay blood-covered and lifeless near the far side of the icy cave. Ralof takes off his blood-soaked helmet and wipes his brow with his forearm. I pull out my daggers from the beast and quickly wash them off in the snow, along with my hands. I then stand and walk toward him. "Are you alright?" I ask, motioning toward the blood all over him.

"Huh?" he looks at the blood as well. "Oh, I'm fine. The blood is mainly from the wolf. I only suffered a few scratches. What about you?"

I give myself a once over as I stuff my daggers back into my belt. "I'm fine. Good thing, too. I haven't managed a trip back to an apothecary yet," I think of the empty phials in my bag and shudder. That could have been unfortunate. I will have to make a note to make more potions as soon as I am able.

"Shall we look for this mythical object, then?" Ralof smirks at me and I can't help but reflect it.

"Let's," I say as I stride passed him to explore the back of the cave. He follows.

The back of the cave is even colder. My breath forms large puffs of steam in front of me and I suddenly wish I had more than just a cloak to protect me from the chill. I search along the cave walls for any sign of a phial or a tunnel that will lead us further… or anything. I come up empty-handed and end up circling the cave almost to the point where I had slain the wolf earlier.

Ralof is searching on the opposite side of the cave. "Have you found anything?" I call to him.

"Maybe," he says, and there is uncertainty in his voice. I immediately abandon my position and head to where Ralof is across the cave, slipping once or twice on the ice as I go.

"What is it?" I ask before I have gotten close enough to see.

"Maybe nothing," he says. When I approach him I see it – a large metal basin connected to a matching stand that jets up from the ground to hold it. It's empty.

_This must be it_, I think to myself. Instinctively, I reach into my satchel and feel for the potion I received from the old man. I pull it out, and in the darkness of the cave the substance is glowing even brighter than I had noticed before. Ralof looks at it with wide eyes but says nothing.

Slowly and carefully I uncork the bottle. A green, swirling smoke puffs out of it and I hold it far away from me as I see it – I don't really know what ingredients are in here, after all. I never thought to ask the old man if it was dangerous to handle. I walk gingerly toward the large basin, holding the concoction at arms' length all the while. When I reach it, I carefully pour the liquid into the basin. As it begins to fill, it sizzles and hisses. This surprises me, so I quickly finish pouring it and back up as fast as I can. However, in my haste my feet discover some icy ground beneath me and suddenly I am on the floor while the phial I was holding shatters on the ground a few feet from me.

I feel Ralof's arms encircle my waist as he pulls me to my feet and then backward – farther away from the liquid in the basin. As we stare at it, it glows brighter still, and continues to hiss violently and slosh around as if someone was stirring it. Very suddenly it all ceases and the liquid calms and begins to gently smoke. The wall of the cave behind it suddenly shifts, startling us both and we jump back together – Ralof's arms still absent-mindedly hanging around me.

The wall section lifts very slowly, almost crumbling as it goes. It is only then that I realize how ancient this cave seems. It doesn't frighten me watching the stones lift off the ground, but Ralof unsheathes his sword and holds me tightly to him with his free arm. I flush, as I become aware of his flexed bicep wrapped tightly around me… and I can almost sense how much he cares for my safety in his grasp.

The wall comes to a halt as it reaches its destination near the top of the cave. Nothing jumps out from behind it as it seems Ralof had suspected, so he sheathes his sword again and releases me. I frown ever so slightly at this as I look back toward Ralof, who is intently studying the small room beyond the secret door. It doesn't seem that he noticed the special connection that I felt while he held me… suddenly I realize that I am acting like a child and snap myself out if it with a quick shake of my head.

Without dwelling on it any further, I crouch down and enter the almost black room behind the wall. Ralof sticks close behind me. The room is tiny – I half expected having to navigate another large tunnel system like earlier at Ustengrav.

As I look about in the darkness, my eyes lock on a very obvious and specific target. There is a relatively large clear phial sitting on a pedestal in the back of the small opening. I stride carefully toward it and pick it up gingerly… as I do so I can almost feel its power emanating from it. Maybe I am only imagining it? The thought quickly leaves my mind… No, there is definitely some kind of powerful magic surrounding this object. This is it… The White Phial.


	7. Valenwood

"Worthless! It's worthless!" the old man shouts and tosses the White Phial to the floorboards. To my surprise it does not shatter, but only comes down with a loud thud and skids along the length of the room. I quickly run to retrieve it. "What did you do?" he presses on, "You broke it!"

"I did nothing of the sort!" I screech back at him as I examine the phial for myself. Indeed, I hadn't noticed it before in the darkness outside, but in the lamplight of the apothecary's second level I can faintly see it – the tiniest of cracks on the bottom of the phial. Just enough so that whatever liquid it holds would slowly drip through the crevice. "It must have been that way when I retrieved it. Can it be fixed?" I ask.

"Fixed?" the old man yelps. I can hear the strain in his voice from repressing his coughing fits, "It cannot be fixed! It was crafted from Unmelting Snow! No manner of materials that can be found in any ordinary shop could possibly hope to meet its standards!" With that, he turns and begins heaving and retching loudly.

His assistant approaches me. "Maybe you're better off just leaving," he says, practically shoving me toward the stairs. "I really appreciate your gesture," he says sincerely, "but it's just riled him up. He needs his rest. You understand, don't you?"

I narrow my eyes at him sternly as I continue to be pushed along. "I had half a mind to keep this, you know!" I shake the phial in his face for a moment before stuffing it back into my satchel. "I didn't have to bring it back to you, but I chose to. This is the thanks I get for my honesty?"

"I do apologize," he says as he leads me down the staircase to the shop area. "Here, take this for your troubles." I watch him walk behind the shop counter and pull out a rather large sack from a low shelf, which he tosses in my direction. As it lands in my hands it jingles loudly, and by the weight of it I can tell it's quite a fair amount of septims. I'm almost a little shocked by his generosity. "I trust this will be enough to cover it?"

I look up at him and my anger seems to have melted away without a trace. I nod gingerly and sigh, stuffing the coin purse into my satchel as well. "There's really no way to repair it?" I ask solemnly.

He shakes his head with disappointment. "Not that I am aware of. I will look into it, though. Thanks again for your help."

My lips tighten to a crease and I nod subtly as I open the door and start to walk out into the night, but as I remember something I stop and turn inward again. "Er, thanks for letting me use your alchemy station. I know you were already closed when I came, so I appreciate it."

He nods at me with a gentle smile. "It's no problem. We were eager to see if you had retrieved the phial anyway. It's honestly the least we can do for you."

I return his smile slightly, then turn and walk out of the shop. _What a waste of time_, I think to myself with disappointment. I find myself hanging my head and shuffling my feet with irritation as I walk. So much for that – and I had even listened to Ralof's advice and tried to return it instead of keeping it like I had originally planned.

I head toward Candlehearth Hall, where I had promised Ralof we would meet up. We had decided that since we were already halfway to Windhelm from the icy cave, that we may as well finish the trip instead of heading back to Dawnstar, even though we knew it would be very late when we arrived. Our plan now is to spend the night in town and head back to Riverwood in the morning. I trudge through the cold, snowy streets to meet him, but to my surprise I turn a corner and see him walking toward me with his head down.

"What are you doing out here?" I ask with surprise. He looks up to meet my gaze and we both stop walking as we draw near to each other. "I thought we were meeting back at Candlehearth Hall."

"Right," he responds, "but I met a carriage driver while I was having a bite to eat at the inn. He said that he could take us to Whiterun while we sleep in his cart. I thought it would be a good idea, since it would save us the trip and we would make better time."

I bite my bottom lip, thinking immediately of the cold night air and how I long for the comfort of a warm fire. "I don't know," I reply with uncertainty. "I'm not built like you Nords, I can't withstand this cold for long periods of time."

"I've already thought of that," he says with a large self-approving grin, "I've bought you a nice, thick blanket from the inn. It's back with all our other possessions."

Admittedly, I am touched that he has already thought in advance of my comfort on the trip. I flush slightly and shift my feet a little, looking elsewhere. I'm suddenly thankful that the darkness is hiding my embarrassed expression. I still think about turning down his offer, but I know I would feel guilty now that he has spent his coin on something for me. "Oh, well… I guess there's no real reason not to go then."

"Right!" he says excitedly. "Let's go collect the rest of our things and meet the carriage driver at the stables."

Ugh, maybe this wasn't such a great idea after all. The blanket that Ralof has provided for me is doing a relatively decent job keeping the cold at bay, but the cart bounces around violently on the rocky path and the hay underneath me continually pokes and scratches my bare arms. My satchel's impression of a pillow is not very convincing, either.

I turn and examine Ralof, who is lying next to me facing the other side of the cart. He seems to already be sleeping like a baby even without the protection of a blanket. I guess he must be used to this kind of lifestyle, being a Stormcloak and everything.

I finally decide that trying to get any kind of rest is futile. I instead sit up, wrap my blanket securely around me then begin rummaging through my bag. I pull out the mead I had the sense to purchase from the inn before we departed and sit on one of the benches lining either side of the wooden cart. Using my teeth, I very ungracefully pop the cork from the bottle, spit it out, and take a swig.

Almost immediately I can feel it warming my bones as it rushes through my bloodstream. It is a welcome relief from the unrelenting cold. My breath forms thick puffs of steam with each breath I take, and the very sight of it makes the night chill feel even colder.

"Can't sleep?" I hear Ralof's voice and look down at the hay pile that he lay in. He has rolled over to face me and eyes are open and looking at me now.

"Yeah," I mutter back to him. "Care for a drink?"

I offer the bottle to him and he sits up and takes it. "Thanks," he replies and takes a swig for himself. "Ahhh… that is a good brew," he says, returning the bottle to me. "Are you too cold?"

I clench the blanket tighter around me, but my face goes unaffected by its warmth and my nose feels very close to turning into ice. "I'm pretty cold," I admit. "But also it's the hay. It keeps poking my arms."

Ralof smiles and crawls over to the bench, hoisting his own body onto it so that he is positioned next to me. I take another swig of the mead and hand it back to him. He takes it and says, "You wood elves are so dainty… can't even handle a little hay on your delicate skin."

I turn and narrow my eyes at him. Even in the darkness I can see the smile plastered on his face from under the bottle as he takes another drink. My anger is fleeting, and I can't help but smile too – I have come to understand that his teasing is how he bonds with people. "Yeah, well, I would like to see you last a day in Valenwood," I challenge him.

He almost chokes on his sip of mead as I say this, but quickly recovers and tosses the bottle aside – apparently having finished it off. "I've been to Valenwood," he says defensively.

This is news to me. I widen my eyes at him, "When did you visit?"

"After Ulfric killed the High King we fled to Cyrodiil," he explains – and his formal Stormcloak tactical demeanor returns as he speaks. "But we kept having run-ins with Imperial soldiers who were looking for us, so we traveled further south – into Valenwood."

I raise an eyebrow at this revelation, "Valenwood is technically Imperial territory, though."

"Yes, but it's very sparsely inhabited by actual Imperials, and we figured it was far enough away from Skyrim that maybe news hadn't reached them yet," he describes. "In any case, we took refuge in one of those giant moving tree things."

I chuckle. "Graht-oaks," I clarify.

"Right," he continues, "but we didn't stay too long before we returned to Cyrodiil. All that humidity and sticky sap… and not a paved road in sight! No place for a Nord." I can't help but laugh loudly at his confession, especially since the mead seems to have kicked in and he is now slurring the majority of his words. He smiles at me and then stretches again as my laughter dies. "So do you have any family waiting for you back there?" he asks casually.

My mood suddenly shifts. "Not really," I say – I don't much like to talk about my family.

Ralof apparently doesn't buy it. "No parents? Siblings?"

As usual, Ralof is relentless – but I decide not to battle him this time. I may as well come clean. "An older brother," I confess, "His name is Endras."

"Bad blood between you?" he inquires. I have a nasty habit of expressing my emotions through the tone in my voice, and I know that he is easily picking up on my reluctance.

"You could say that," I shrug. "He blames me for something that happened at home… and he also wants me to become something that I'm not. It's why I left Valenwood in the first place."

"You're a runaway then?" he asks gingerly, as if trying not to offend me.

It doesn't work. "I'm an adult," I snap at him. "If I choose to leave home it shouldn't qualify as being a runaway."

"I didn't mean that you ran away from home," he clarifies. "I meant that you ran from your problems with your brother, and then you came to Skyrim and ran from being the Dragonborn."

I try hard to muster up some anger at his words, but I cannot. I know in my heart that he is right, and I suddenly feel the need to curl up into a ball and hide. I resist my desire to do so, and instead just hang my head. Ralof doesn't even know the half of it – I am running away from so much more than what he knows of. I suddenly feel a tear slip out from under my eyelashes and land on the blanket that remains wrapped around me.

"Hey, hey," he says gently, wrapping an arm around me and lifting my chin with his other hand. He turns my face to look at him, but my eyes remain shut – I cannot bear to look at him in this state. Ralof, however, won't allow that. "Look at me," he says, and against my will my eyes open and I stare into frost blue irises. "I didn't mean to upset you," he says softly, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," my voice cracks as I speak. "You're right."

"I'm not right," he argues, but there is still reverence in his tone. "You went on the journey the Greybeards sent you on. That means you are facing your problems. Maybe you were a runaway before, but it seems that you are not any longer."

I know that his words are meant to comfort me, but they sting as he speaks them. He doesn't know that even though I am following the path of the Dragonborn, I am also using it to run from even more of my problems. This, however, is something I do not wish to discuss with him since it would probably destroy any small amount of respect that he holds for me. So instead, I say nothing, and a there is a long pause in which we sit only looking at each other intently.

Suddenly he leans forward and places his lips on mine, wrapping his arms tightly around the blanket that encircles me. Normally my first instinct would be to pull away, but the mead seems to have hindered my ability to think clearly and I instead kiss him back, returning his passion. I reach my hand through the opening of my blanket and clutch his tunic in my grasp, pulling him closer. Our kiss deepens as he slides closer to me, causing my neck to crane up in order to meet his height. One of his hands moves from my back to my hair, and he strokes it gently as we kiss.

It's in that moment that reason decides to strike me, and I realize that I am falling for Ralof. The thought awakens fear in me, and I suddenly retract from the kiss and look up at him with wide eyes. He smiles down at me, oblivious to my sudden change of heart. "We should try and rest," he says sweetly as he slides back off the bench and into the pile of hay. He extends his hand to me, and in order to avoid any further conversation, I grasp it. He pulls me next to him, laying me down in his arms and holding me tightly. I know that I should protest, but his arm makes a much better pillow than my bag did, and suddenly my face doesn't seem so affected by the chill of the night. I realize that I might actually be able to get some sleep this way, and so without another thought I nod off.


	8. Mysterious Stranger

As I step out of the cart, I look around and examine my surroundings. The cart driver has been kind enough to take us all the way to Riverwood instead of stopping at Whiterun, where most cart routes end. I'm thankful for this – I wasn't looking forward to walking any distance with Ralof after last night's events. Luckily for me, Ralof had only just woken up and so I haven't had to say much to him.

We say a quick thank you to the driver and turn toward the bridge into town as the cart pulls away. As we cross it, Ralof walks close to me and brushes his hand against mine. Without thinking, I retract my hand from my side and begin using it to rifle through my bag for no particular reason. Ralof gives me a funny look, but I pretend not to notice.

_I have to get out of here_, is repeating over and over again in my mind. _I don't want this. I have to focus. I need to get rid of him._

"So," I say finally, breaking the silence as we reach the town's main road. "What's the plan?"

"Well, I should probably say hello to my sister," he says without turning to me. "I figure that whoever is coming to meet us at the Sleeping Giant won't be there until tonight, so maybe we should just meet back there at sundown?"

"Sounds like a plan," I say, trying hard not to show any hesitation in my voice. "See you then."

With that, he walks away without even a glance in my direction. I turn and walk toward the tavern in the other direction and my mind goes back to the night before. Ralof was so warm and inviting to me last night. Then even as we walked across the bridge it seemed (assuming that I hadn't fabricated it in my own mind) as though he wanted to grasp my hand. But now he is acting cold and callous. His mood can change in an instant, but then again I know mine can as well. Maybe he suddenly regretted last night as much as I did.

Ugh. I can't dwell on this anymore. I have to figure out how to get out of here without Ralof knowing. Maybe I can find out who this stranger is and change the meeting spot to somewhere else – somewhere out of town before tonight. It doesn't sound like a great plan, but it's the best I have at the moment so I follow through with it.

Before I know it, I am walking through the door to the inn. It's relatively abandoned other than a couple of travelers in the corner packing up their belongings and looking like they are about to leave. I approach the counter and the same Nordic man from my previous stay greets me, though his name eludes me.

"Greetings, friend," he says with a warm smile. "Interested in some breakfast?"

The thought is tempting, but I quickly shake it from my mind – I am in a hurry. "Er, no thank you," I reply. "I know it's still morning, but I wanted to pay for a room for tonight."

"Ah," he said casually. "You'll have to talk to Delphine about that. She's taken over all the room bookings. She's over there," he nudges his head in the direction of the room to my left as he picks up a rag and begins wiping down the counter.

"Thanks," I say to him quickly as I turn toward the room, walk toward it, and peek inside. Delphine is making up the beds in the same room that I had stayed in recently. "Hey, Delphine," I say as I stride in.

She turns to me and gives me a sweet smile. "Lhessil, it's nice to see you again. What can I do for you, dear?"

I half-expect her to turn back to her duties as I speak, but oddly I seem to have her full attention. "Oh, I just wanted to talk to you about getting a room here tonight."

"Sure thing, you can have this one," she says as she turns back to her duties again.

"Thanks," I say as I turn to walk away, then suddenly it strikes me. "Oh! Wait," I turn to Delphine again, who returns the gesture. "Actually, um, I was wondering if I could have the attic room."

A smirk suddenly flitters across Delphine's face. She folds her arms across her chest as she replies, "Is that so? Well, we don't have an attic room. But if you follow me, I'll show you a room that you can have."

I am thoroughly confused. There is no attic room? What is this mysterious stranger playing at then? Maybe I should get out of Riverwood now in that case. I open my mouth to tell her that I've changed my mind, but she has already stridden quickly past me and out of the room, so I follow her. She walks quickly though, and I struggle to keep up as she leads me to a room on the other end of the inn. She stops outside the doorway and motions for me to enter.

"Oh, um, actually I was just supposed to be meeting someone in the attic room," I confess to her. "Since there's been some kind of mistake maybe I should just go."

"There hasn't been a mistake," she says quietly, and then motions again for me to enter the room. I widen my eyes in surprise, but there is no uncertainty in her eyes. This catches me off-guard, so I decide to enter the room without knowing why.

Delphine enters after me and to my surprise she closes the door and locks it behind herself. "So," she begins as she stuffs the key in a pocket of her apron and turns toward me. "You got my letter, Dragonborn."

My mouth hangs open as I try to figure out what to say to her. Nothing comes out, so Delphine continues. "I heard you and Ralof talking the other night when you were here," she explains. "You said that the Greybeards had sent you to do something. It didn't take me long to figure out what it was and beat you to it."

My head is still racing trying to catch up. Delphine is the mysterious stranger? I suddenly remember waking up the morning after my last visit and trying to find Delphine but not seeing her anywhere… she must have already been on the way to Ustengrav.

"H-How?" I finally squeak out. "How did you get past those gates in Ustengrav?"

"Ah, that's a secret for now," she says with a smirk.

Then another question shoots into my head like an arrow. "Where is the horn?" My voice sounds more sinister than I mean it to be.

"I have it," she says coolly. "Don't worry, it's yours. But we need to talk… Follow me."

She strides over to a wardrobe standing against the wall near the door and opens it. She rifles through it, and for a moment I think she is fetching the horn for me, but then suddenly she steps into it and is gone.

I shake my head, thinking my eyes have played a trick on me, but as I step carefully toward the wardrobe I can see that everything in it has been pushed to one side, and behind it the back has opened into a doorway. It has stone steps leading down to a basement, which I watch Delphine finish walking down and go into another mysterious room. Without thinking terribly long about it, I follow her down the steps and find myself stepping into the large room. It has a large tactical table in the center of it, and various weapons and other equipment on racks strewn across the walls of it.

I stare at Delphine, who has walked over to a bookshelf and is currently pulling off a black odd-looking object. She turns to me and says, "Here. I believe this is what you were looking for."

I know in that instance that it's the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. I walk cautiously toward her and take it before carefully slipping it into my satchel. I stand speechless as she makes her way to the table in the center of the room. She appears to be looking over a map.

My mind is busy racing. How much does she know?

"I thought you were just a simple tavern owner," I say quietly.

She breaks eye contact with her map and turns back to me with a smile. "Surprised?" She seems pleased with herself. "I guess I'm getting pretty good at my harmless innkeeper act."

I smile back for a brief moment, but can't hold back my curiosity any longer. "So, here I am. What do you want with me?"

"I'm not your enemy," she says quickly and reassuringly. "I gave you the horn, didn't I? I'm actually trying to help you."

"Er, ok… I really just came here for the horn, though," I say, looking anywhere but at her. This is kind of awkward. I really don't want or need another person following me around on my travels if that's what she has in mind.

"And now you have it," she replies. "No harm done. Look, I just need you to hear me out."

I sigh, immediately thinking about how I need to get out of Riverwood and away from Ralof as soon as possible. "I don't have time for this, Delphine. I need to get this horn back to the Greybeards, they sent me for it quite a while ago…"

I jump as a loud thump startles me out of my thoughts. I look toward Delphine and realize she has slammed her fist against the side of the table and is now looking toward me with an aggravated face. "Look!" she says with a shout, "I shouldn't even let you walk out of here, knowing what you know. You'd already be dead if I didn't think that you were the Dragonborn. And for your sake I hope that you are because this might end very badly for you otherwise."

I am stunned into silence. I don't know how this dainty little innkeeper is intimidating me, but she is managing it quite well. "I'm listening," I say quietly, but I can hear the malice coming from my tone.

She sighs. "I'm part of a group that's been looking for you… or someone like you, for a very long time. If you really are Dragonborn, that is. But before I tell you more I need to know that I can trust you."

This offends me more than it should. "Excuse me? Until five minutes ago I thought you were a humble tavern owner. How in Oblivion am I supposed to trust _you_?"

"If you didn't trust me, you wouldn't have walked into this room in the first place," she says without hesitation.

Damn. She has me there. I came more out of curiosity than trust, but at the same time I have grown fond of Delphine over the few times that I have visited the inn, and I know that I still trust her nonetheless. "Alright fine," I reply. "So what is this group of people looking for the Dragonborn?"

"We are a group that remembers what most don't - that the Dragonborn is the ultimate dragonslayer. You're the only one that can kill a dragon permanently by devouring its soul," she says as she folds her arms over her chest again. "You _can_ devour a dragon's soul, can't you?"

I shrug. "I suppose to could call it that. I absorb some kind of power from dragons when they die. That's about all I can say."

"This is no time to play the reluctant hero," she says with aggravation laced in her voice. "You either are or aren't Dragonborn. But I'll see for myself soon enough."

"Oh, will you?" I ask, growing more impatient by the minute. "If you have some kind of plan for me, why don't you indulge me?"

"Very well," she replies, turning back to her map. I follow her example, stepping over to the table and looking over her shoulder at it. "Everyone thinks that dragons are coming back, maybe from a long sleep or that they had travelled somewhere else and stayed there for a while. I've heard the rumors – I am a tavern owner after all. But they're all wrong. They aren't just coming back… they're coming back to life."

I raise my eyebrows at this and want to respond that she's crazy, but she continues on to hinder my chance. "They were dead. Killed off by my predecessors. Now something's happening to bring them back to life. And I need you to help me stop it."

Her words haven't changed my mind much. "This is crazy. I mean, it sounds crazy. You know that, right?"

Delphine lets out a small chuckle. "A few years ago, I said almost the same thing to a colleague of mine. Well, it turned out he was right and I was wrong."

I sigh. "Alright, what is it that makes you think that this is going on?"

"I _know_ this is going on," she corrects me. "I've visited their ancient burial mounds and found them empty. And I've figured out where the next one will come back to life. We're going to go there, and you're going to kill that dragon. If we succeed, I'll tell you anything you want to know."

This sudden information leaves me puzzled. Empty dragon burials mounds? I didn't even know that dragons had burial mounds. Besides that, she wants me to kill another dragon and supposedly she knows exactly where it's going to be? It all sounds a little far-fetched, but then again I know that being the Dragonborn seemed far-fetched to me as well, but people keep saying that I am.

After mulling it over in my brain for quite a while longer, I finally decide that it's at least worth looking into. If I can kill a dragon right after it wakes up, and maybe stop it from flying around and terrorizing innocent people, I may as well try – no matter how insane it sounds.

"Fine," I finally say to her. "Where are we headed then?"

"Kynesgrove," she replies, "assuming that the pattern holds, anyway. If you'll go wait for me in the dining area, I can get ready and we'll head out right now. Sound good?"

_Finally_, I think to myself. I'm getting out of Riverwood, and I've already got the horn. Things are going even better than planned. I smirk, "Let's go kill a dragon."

In the short time that I have waiting for Delphine to ready herself in the basement, I decide to eat some breakfast in the dining area. I buy a freshly baked sweet roll and sit in front of the empty fireplace. As I eat I remember my conversation with Ralof about Stormcloaks versus Imperials that we had in front of a fire in Dawnstar. Surprisingly, I find myself thinking back on it fondly despite the fact that we argued for most of it.

I shake the thought from my mind. I need to stop thinking about Ralof. Our time together is over, and I need to accept it. After all, it's for the best no matter how I might feel about him…

"Orgnar, I'm travelling," Delphine's voice says from behind me. I stand back up and look toward her – she is addressing the Nord behind the counter. "You've got the inn 'til I get back."

"Right," he replies to her. "Happy trails."

Delphine is wearing sturdy leather armor from head to toe. Tied to her side by a leather strap is a long, thin sword in its sheath. She passed me, with a quick, "Let's go." I can tell she is all business from here on out. So am I.

We walk out the door of the inn together, and I cautiously scan the area for any sign of Ralof as I follow closely behind Delphine. Luckily, he is nowhere to be found and we cross the stone bridge out of town, to my knowledge, unseen.

"Kynesgrove is this way," she says as she leads me down a fork in the path. "Remember, wer'e not looking for trouble. We need to get to Kynesgrove as fast as we can."

"Right," I agree, and our pace picks up slightly as we walk. We remain silent for the most part, not because I don't have anything to say but more due to the fact that this new Delphine intimidates me a little. However, one question keeps nagging at me, and it finally slips out, "Have you ever gone up against a dragon before?"

"No," she admits. "But my ancestors have, and I have read their tales and journals. I train a lot, and I know what to do." She doesn't sound worried in the least.

"I see," I say quietly.

"Besides, I am with someone who has gone up against one," she says, looking at me. I look back at her and realize, of course, that she is talking about me. I smile weakly, but on the inside I am scolding myself for not thinking to ask her before. I've only ever slayed one dragon, and it was with the help of many other soldiers from Whiterun. I am a little more than nervous about what awaits us at this burial mound, assuming that Delphine speaks the truth.

"How far away is Kynesgrove?" I ask after another long period of silence.

"Just southeast of Windhelm," she says casually. Windhelm… That's almost an entire day's journey. She made it sound as if it were somewhere nearby. "Is that a problem?" she challenges me.

I furrow my eyebrows at her. What she doesn't know is that the further I get from Riverwood, the better off I am. "Of course," I reply nonchalantly, and wit that we continue our journey in relative silence.


	9. Kynesgrove

Night fell hours ago. My legs are becoming weary and sluggish, and the cold is biting at my flesh. I suddenly find myself longing for the warmth of the blanket Ralof had bought me, but realize with disdain that I must have left it in the cart. Delphine, however, seems to have no trouble with the long distance that we have traveled. She continues on at a pace that would suggest we had only just started our journey, and I struggle to keep up.

We have already forked off of the road to Windhelm, which suggested to me that we wouldn't be staying there overnight. I don't ask Delphine about the matter though – she hasn't been one for conversation on this long journey.

"We're nearly there," she finally says, breaking the never-ending silence. "If you need rest, Braidwood Inn will accommodate you nicely. I'll stand guard at the burial mound and if anything happens, I will come fetch you."

"Great," I sigh with relief. "I could really use a res—"

"Shhh!" Delphine suddenly jets her arm out in front of me, forcing me to stop in my tracks. I look at her in the darkness and make out that she is trying to listen. I follow suit. For a moment I hear nothing, but suddenly my ears capture the sound of a woman's shriek in the distance. In an instant, Delphine takes off running. It takes me a moment to understand what's happening, but a moment later my mind catches up and I chase after her.

The dark is unrelenting. I can barely make out my own feet on the path as we sprint over the ground, and the nearby trees whip past us in a blur. Finally I see a clearing ahead, with glimmers of light here and there up a hillside. I recognize the pattern as windows from a town. It must be Kynesgrove.

We chase after the lights, and as soon as we hit the clearing I see a woman running in our direction. She is yelling something unrecognizable, and Delphine runs toward her. I finally manage to catch up just as Delphine collides with the woman and grabs her firmly by the shoulders.

"Iddra! It's me, Delphine. What is going on?" Iddra is obviously shaken. She keeps trying to look behind her, but Delphine grabs her head and forces her focus. "Iddra, what's happening?"

"It's… It's a d-dragon!" she shouts with panic. "A dragon is attacking!"

Only then do my eyes adjust to the scenery and I see the other people of the town running about, scooping up children and valuables as they head away from the area. My eyes widen and I can feel the surge of adrenaline rush through me and instantly warm my body. My weariness has vanished, and my senses have become acute, making me aware of every sight and sound in the darkness.

As my eyes scan the area, I suddenly notice a black shadow in the sky above the hill beyond Kynesgrove. Without a second thought, I withdraw my bow from my back and sprint off in that direction, paying no attention to Delphine's whereabouts. I climb the steep slope swiftly, barely noticing the uneven terrain or the black of the night. Although the path I follow is long and steep, it feels as if it only takes me a moment to reach the top… and the sight I find is astonishing.

A strange whirlwind is rising from the ground in front of me, and directly above it hovers a jet black dragon that flaps its wings gracefully. I recognize it immediately… but even before I wrap my mind around the situation the dragon begins to speak.

"Sahloknir, ziil gro dovah ulse! Slen tiid vo!" the voice is deep, gravelly, and menacing. Although it faces away from me, I remember its blazing red eyes and it haunts me as it speaks.

Just then, the ground begins to shake ferociously. I stumble backward and try to get my bearings, but before I can find my balance, I trip on an unknown lumpy object and begin to fall. However, I come to a quick halt when I am caught in mid-descent by Delphine, who hoists me back onto my feet and withdraws her own weapon, staring at the spectacle unfolding before us.

The whirlwind ceases just as the ground explodes, devastating the dirt and rocks in front of us and sending earth bulleting through the air. I shield my face with my arm to avoid the debris, but manage to keep my bearings even as the earth continues to tremble. When the dirt stops flying, I peek out from behind my forearm to examine the situation, and my mind does not comprehend what I am seeing at first.

It's another dragon. But this one is different… it is only a skeleton, but still it moves about like a living creature. It crawls out of a large crater that formed from the explosion, shaking the excess debris from its ancient-looking bones. Then, adding even further to my surprise, it too begins to speak.

"Alduin, thuri! Boaan tiid vokriiha suleyksejun kruziik?" its voice does not reflect the intimidating nature of the jet black dragon, but the sight of it is startling enough.

I begin to wonder how I am supposed to proceed… I am here to kill this thing, but it has no flesh to tear through.

Almost on cue with my thoughts, the dragon's bones look as though they begin to smoke and smolder. Almost as soon as I have noticed this, the skeleton bursts into flame for only a moment before it quickly snuffs back out, revealing greenish-grey scales and the flesh that was previously missing. It is in this moment that I realize… Delphine is right. They dragons are truly coming back from the dead.

The startling sound of the black dragon begins again, "Geh, Sahloknir, kaali mir."

I tilt my head upward to look at the speaking dragon, and do so just in time to see it turn around and look straight toward me. Instinctively, I aim my bow at the dragon and grasp an arrow from the quiver on my back with lightning speed, no doubt aided by my heightened senses. Without taking more than a second to properly aim, I release the arrow and it soars toward the dragon, but it bounces off without leaving so much as a scratch.

It lets out a loud, terrifying chuckle. "Ful, losei Dovahkiin? Zu'u koraav nid nol dov do hi."

Dovahkiin? That is what the Greybeards called me… the Dragonborn. This dragon is addressing me, but I cannot understand it. I open my mouth half in surprise and half expecting to somehow be able to answer, but nothing happens. Its blazing red eyes pierce my very soul as it stares down to me.

"You do not even know our tongue, do you? Such arrogance, to dare take for yourself the name of Dovah," he speaks, and I am once again startled that I understand him this time. Is it because I am the Dragonborn that I am suddenly able to understand? Or is it because it actually knows and speaks my own language? I barely have time to consider this before it turns to the green dragon and begins speaking in dragontongue once more. "Sahloknir, krii daar joorre."

With that, the black dragon suddenly speeds off through the night sky. With a sudden sense of panic, I ready another arrow to shoot after it, but it is too late. The darkness does an impeccable job camouflaging the black dragon, and it is no longer visible.

Instead, I turn my readied arrow toward the green dragon and get ready to fire, but even before my fingers can release it, the dragon opens its mouth wide… and I know what is coming next. My eyes widen in surprise and I dive out of the way, but not quickly enough. A stream of blazing hot fire jets out from it, lighting the night around us. Before I have even hit the ground, I can feel the skin on my legs burning away from my bones.

With a loud thud, I skid brutally on the ground and desperately search around for Delphine, who I discover only yards in front of me. She has managed to take refuge behind an old fallen tree trunk. I attempt to get up, but my legs collapse again when attempting to support my weight. Without a second thought, I do the only other thing that can be done. I begin using my arms to drag myself the short distance to the barricade. The dragon suddenly takes off toward the stars, blowing up a massive wind as it does so. In the split second that the dragon is distracted, Delphine shoots out from behind the tree and drags me the rest of the way to safety.

Before anything can be said between us, Delphine withdraws her own bow and begins shooting up into the sky, presumably at the new location of the dragon but I cannot see for myself. My eyes are busy trying to focus on my legs. In the night, it takes me a moment to make out the damage, but eventually I realize that they are charred and blackened. Below my knees, only layers of muscle seem to remain, and my boots have been effectively burned off – leaving no trace to be found. I'm amazed that my injuries don't hurt much with how much damage there seems to be.

The dragon lets out a fierce roar, but I pay no attention. Delphine continues to send arrows at it, but from her frustrated groans I assume that they aren't doing much. I have to help her… suddenly my thoughts go to the potions in my satchel which still hangs loyally at my side. I begin rifling through it, wondering for a moment if the phials even survived my landing, but I find them quickly and they are miraculously unscathed. With a triumphant smirk I uncork the red potion and chug the entire substance, stuffing the bone dry phial back into my pouch.

As I look overhead I can see the dragon's dark silhouette circling above us. Just in time, I feel my legs beginning to regenerate. I turn my attention back toward them and witness them thicken back to their original size. My potion doesn't undo all the damage, though. The healing slows and then comes to a halt with spots of pink burns still remaining, but it is enough for me to fight.

I reach for the bow on my back… but it isn't there. Immediately I search the area around me, squinting in the dark to find it… But it isn't anywhere near me. Retracing my steps in my mind, I poke my head out from behind the log and see it… or at least what's left of it. Its bottom half has been reduced to ashes, the string dangling helplessly from the top.

"Argh! Damn it!" Delphine plops down beside me and throws her bow down in frustration. "We've got to bring that bastard down, it's our only chance!"

I pull my daggers from my belt and wonder if they would even do any damage to a dragon's armored scales. They definitely won't help me bring the dragon to the ground… and we are running out of options. I try to think up a plan, but the dragon's fearsome roars and pillars of unrelenting fire making my thought process nearly impossible to maintain.

"Aaaahhhh!" I hear a voice scream suddenly, though it sounds faint over the ear-splitting shriek of the dragon. I look to Delphine, who returns my puzzled expression. We both turn and cautiously poke both our heads over the log. _Someone is out there!_

The silhouette of a man is barely visible in the darkness, but I can make out that he has a rather large shield and is banging his sword against it repeatedly, creating deafening clanking and scraping sounds. I look up to search for the dragon, but before my eyes can locate it there is a loud thud and the ground shakes. The dragon has landed in front of the man, the wind of its wings sending dirt flying in every direction.

I watch in horror. _What is this fool thinking?_ The dragon's eyes meet the man for only a brief moment before it rears its head back and opens its mouth… it's about to unleash another fiery attack.

"No!" I shout as I leap to my feet and out of the safety of my wooden barrier… but it's too late. My voice is completely snuffed out by the sound of the roaring flames, which completely envelope the man. Immediately I think of the damage done to my legs by this beast, and know that there is no way he could have survived.

With a sudden overwhelming anger, I dash around the log – sprinting toward the dragon's back with all the speed I can manage. I know my only chance to succeed is to strike while it is distracted. In mere seconds I reach its tail and leap onto it, then run up its back without delay. My bare feet slip on its smooth scales, but I continue on without incident. The dragon turns its head, I assume because it has noticed me, but it's too late to abort my plan. As I make a final leap into the air, I feel suddenly as if all motion has slowed. I grasp my daggers tightly in my fists. As I lunge toward its face, which is now turned to me, I see it open its great jaws to attack. But before it manages to strike, I sink both of my blades with all my might into the dragon's skull.

To my surprise, my daggers sink in all the way to the hilt. The dragon lets out an earsplitting squeal in pain and begins flailing its head around violently. My body flops around uselessly while it does so, my hands still grasped firmly onto my weapons. I'm nearly shaken off by the might of dragon's protest, but instinctively I wrap my legs tightly around its long neck and find myself seated rather securely onto it, even as it continues to seize.

I try desperately to pull the daggers out of the dragon's head, but they are stuck firmly. I tighten my legs around the dragon's neck and use myself as a counterweight to heave the daggers out. Before I know it, they are back in my hands and red blood gushes rapidly out of the dragon's open wounds. Without another thought, I raise my arms and ready myself to strike again. This time, as I bring my weapons down forcefully, I reach under my seated position and they come to rest deep in the neck of the beast. I discovered that it is not nearly as hard to pierce the dragon's armor on the underside of its neck, as my weapons have gone through cleanly and easily.

I am careful to slice the dragon's neck as much as I can before pulling the daggers out again, and almost immediately the dragon half-collapses, is breath shallow and uneven. Its head wounds still ooze blood unrelentingly, and its eyes roll back into its skull as it takes one final desperate rasping breath, and then completely crashes to the ground with a sound not unlike thunder. I manage to release my leg lock from its neck just in time to keep them from being crushed by the impact, but as a result I tumble off the dragon rather ungracefully and fall violently to the ground in front of it with a loud grunt.

The impact knocks the wind from my chest and leaves my vision blurry, but even so I can still make out the dragon's corpse lying lifeless in front of me. Suddenly it bursts into flame as it had done with its resurrection. Its scales burn off without a trace, leaving only ancient bones in its wake.

As I lay there, I can faintly make out Delphine's silhouette as she makes her way over to me, kneeling down to check my condition. "I'll be damned! You did it!" I hear her say, although at the moment it sounds like her voice is very far away. "You alright?"

My senses slowly return, and breathing starts to become easier. I hoist myself to my feet with Delphine's help and nod as I brush off my clothing. "Yeah, I'm alright…"

"Good," she replies as her attention turns back to the dragon's remains. "C'mon, I've been wanting a closer look at one of these buggers." She takes a step toward it and I do the same, but we both stop suddenly as the dragon's bones light up brightly. "Wait!" Delphine suddenly shouts, "Something's happening!" A strange orange glow emits from them and a sudden wind picks up and whips around us violently. Then a familiar feeling takes over my senses…

"Feim," I hear a deep voice say. "Become ethereal… Fade…"

I close my eyes and let the knowledge surround me… the knowledge of the dragon.

The wind dies down as quickly as it came, and reality returns to me. I open my eyes and see that the dragon's remains have stopped glowing. "Gods above!" Delphine exclaims, "So you really are... I... it's true, isn't it? You really are Dragonborn."

I look toward her timidly and say nothing for a moment… but I know in my soul that I am finally ready to admit it for certain. "Yes," I say weakly, "I am."


End file.
